


Learning Boundaries

by totallyrandom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adult Stiles Stilinski, Background Pack - Freeform, College Student Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, Derek Hale Cooks, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Derek Has Issues, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Derek Needs a Hug, Derek can draw, Derek has a thing for Stiles's hands, Derek is touch-starved, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Fluffity fluff fluff FLUFF, Happy Ending, Hugs, M/M, Massages, Moving In Together, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Pack Dinners, Pack Movie Nights, Past Sexual Abuse, Puppy Piles, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sex Toys, Sexy Times, Sharing a Bed, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Stiles tries to fix it, Touch-Starved, Touching, a little bit of angst, and by that I mean that Kate Argent and Jennifer the Darach happened, and emotional healing, and we all know they were both creepy as fuck, but he's working on them, but it's barely mentioned here, but it's gonna be happy i promise, derek loves it, domestic as all fuck, fight practice, just character growth, no real plot arc, pack slumber parties, really i promise it's a happy ending, showering together, stiles has a filthy mouth, stiles has lots of ideas for sexy times with derek, still they've left Derek with some issues, this is gonna be a story that i come back to over time, well not so much with the ending part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 45,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyrandom/pseuds/totallyrandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek isn’t lonely anymore, but he is touch starved. He catches himself reaching out sometimes, but he hasn’t quite been ready to make himself follow through yet. No one’s said anything about it, but Stiles must have noticed recently. Of course. He notices <i>everything</i>. It’s … annoying. Most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be like 90% fluff, 5% angst, maybe 5% smut, and probably 0% plot.
> 
> Also, there probably won't be an ending. I'll just come back and add new scenes from time to time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s beginning to suspect that Stiles is treating him like a spooked horse. Or a science project. But he’s more than happy to let Stiles rehabilitate him.

Derek’s better now. In pretty much every way, really. He has a stable pack. People who care about him, support him, defend him, rely on him. He has a home that’s not burnt out or crumbling. No one’s even died there. He has a _home_. He’s whole again.

He isn’t lonely anymore, but he _is_ touch starved. The pack isn’t terribly huggy with him, and he’s not quite there yet to be comfortable asking for it. Or initiating it. It just seems _too late_ to start being physically affectionate with them now. It would be _weird_. Stiles would probably think he was drugged … or possessed. Stiles would be an asshole about it. It would be terribly awkward. So he leaves it alone. He’ll be fine.

He does occasionally clap someone on the back, or push them out of the way--even just around the house when no one’s in danger. It helps a little, but it’s not enough. The longest physical contact he’s had with anyone since coming back to Beacon Hills the first time was probably Stiles holding him up in the pool. And now that he thinks about it--now that he’s in a place to stop and actually _think_ about it--it’s really sad. Pathetic. But he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Over the next month, Derek catches himself reaching out sometimes, but he hasn’t quite been ready to make himself follow through yet. No one’s said anything about it, but Stiles must have noticed recently. Of course. He notices _everything_. It’s … annoying. Most of the time. But maybe this time it’s ok. Stiles has started to touch him more. Just a pat on the shoulder as he passes, or a hand on his bare arm to get his attention, or a grip on his lower back as they head out the door together. Derek tries not to tense up or lean into it. He doesn’t want to draw attention to it. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t want Stiles to stop. 

Derek’s beginning to suspect that Stiles is treating him like a spooked horse. Or a science project. But he’s more than happy to let Stiles rehabilitate him. Derek’s only gotten so far on his own, and he’s not up for actual professional therapy. So he’s willing to let this play out and see where it gets them. 

And where it gets them a couple weeks later is a suffocating post-battle group hug. He’s not sure he likes it. He’s _definitely_ sure he can’t breathe very well right now. And there’s an elbow digging into his side. Trying to wiggle free isn’t working at all. It’s _awful_ , but Derek thinks it’s also kinda nice too. 

“Uncle! Ew, but not Peter! Just … fuck! _Let me out!_ Fragile human here, assholes!” Stiles cries practically into Derek’s ear, then whispers, “Sorry, dude,” and grabs Derek’s hand to pull him out with him. No one else seems quite ready to let go, so once the two of them are out, the gap tightens behind them. Stiles drags him to the couch and they collapse together. Stiles is half-sprawled on him and doesn’t seem inclined to move.  “This ok?” he whispers. Derek doesn’t say anything but doesn’t push him away either. “Awesome.” 

Stiles falls asleep on him almost instantly while everyone else is still hugging it out. Derek sends them home. Tells them Stiles needs the rest. He allows himself the liberty of smoothing the hair off Stiles’s forehead before Derek falls asleep himself. He doesn’t think Stiles would mind. 

When Stiles flails awake, smacking him in the face, he sees and feels that Stiles has drooled on him. They both jump up and Derek runs to the bathroom to wash up. 

“Whoa, sorry dude. That was kinda gross,” Stiles says when Derek comes back shirtless. “Though I can’t say I’m sad about this result.” He waves at Derek’s chest. 

Derek blushes. “Uh, I have … a _thing_ … about … ”

“About random people drooling on you in your sleep?” Stiles jokes, punching him on the arm. “Pretty sure that’s universally gross.”

Derek takes the out. “Yeah. Get a new pillow,” he pretends to grump.

“But you’re so _comfy_! It doesn’t _look_ like you would be,” he squints and pats Derek on the chest. Derek fails to hold in his gasp. “Shit, sorry. I’m just violating your personal boundaries all over the place today. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I should go.”

“We could watch a movie.” 

“Like _watch_ a movie or Netflix and chill?” Stiles leers.

“ … There’s a difference?” 

“Duuuuude. You’re such an _old man_ sometimes. I will not be surprised if we come in someday and you’re wearing an argyle cardigan and smoking a pipe. You’re _already_ really good at yelling at kids to keep off your lawn.” 

“That was one time. I was trying to keep two dumb kids out of danger. And away from my sister’s body.”

“Shit, dude. Sorry. Fuck. Sorry. Movie another night, then?” He turns to leave but Derek grabs his hand. “Or I could just stay? Staying’s good. Movie. Yeah. Movie’s good.”

“Pick something. I’ll be right back.” He comes back with a bag of pretzels. “Sorry, no popcorn.”

Stiles mock sighs. “You’re gonna get such a bad Yelp review; you have no idea.” 

They sit, not quite on opposite ends of the couch, but also not touching. Stiles squirms around every couple minutes until Derek tugs him in close. Stiles grins up at him and squeezes his hand before threading their fingers together for the rest of the movie. It’s the best night Derek can remember in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out Teen. The rating will probably go up in future chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gives the pack members literal pats on the back when they do well, but that morphs into other touches over time.

As they hang out more, Stiles pushes Derek to be more in-touch with the rest of the pack, too. Not just physically. More _involved_ in their lives. He even makes Derek come with them to karaoke. But he’ll _never_ get him to sing. 

Stiles tells him it's ok. “Baby steps and all,” he says, pinching Derek’s cheek. He knows he should be annoyed. But when he rolls his eyes at Stiles, it just comes across as fond. He's trying to be a good alpha. They deserve someone good. Stiles shouldn’t have to fill so many gaps in his leadership. So he’s _trying_.

He's trying to be more hands-on. Mostly just correcting the pack’s fighting stances. It feels comfortable enough to start there. So far no one questions it. But Stiles notices. _Of course_. Stiles spots him smiling at Isaac and pounces. Actually bounces over and careens into Derek. Isaac had just tossed Boyd an impressive distance and Derek was smiling. He's proud, and Stiles sees it on his face. Stiles nudges him into voicing his praise for once. “Out loud, dude.” So he does. It's awkward. But Isaac seems too pleased to mind. He's so happy he throws himself at them, gathering Derek and Stiles into a big squeeze before running over to rub his victory in Boyd’s face. The bragging doesn’t end so well for Isaac, but the hug is the beginning of something good at least.  

Isaac starts looking to him for approval more often after that. As Stiles says, “Who could deny that puppy face???” Derek's starting to think he can't deny any of them, really. So he schedules an hour a week during practice sessions to help each pack member improve different skills. Whatever they want to work on that week. He gives them literal pats on the back when they do well. And that morphs into other touches over time. 

One day Erica is so proud of herself that she jumps on Derek’s back. She demands that he parade her around the clearing for her victory lap. He’s about to dump her on her ass when he sees Stiles grinning at him. And Derek wants so badly to keep that smile. So he indulges Erica. Even though he's pretty sure he'll regret it.

Scott laughs so hard at them that he forgets what he's supposed to be doing. Boyd knocks him to the ground easily but Scott just keeps laughing. Isaac runs over and jumps on top of Erica while she’s still on Derek’s back. They all tumble down and Stiles throws himself down hard on top of them. Scott drags Boyd over to complete the pile with him. It’s  _utterly ridiculous._  And by far the least-dangerous pack bonding they’ve ever had. Derek feels like the unexpected joy is going to explode his heart. Or maybe that’s just what it feels like being at the bottom of a pile of werewolves. He doesn't really remember anymore.

Everyone untangles and goes home shortly after. A few hours later he's got a full house again when someone decides it's movie night. The group text actually said: "movie nite @ alphas!" Derek’s in one corner of the couch, Scott the other, Isaac in the middle. Boyd’s stretched out on his stomach next to the couch with Erica curled up on the armrest. She's leaning into Derek while poking at Boyd with her foot. Clearly the pack breached some barrier today, not just with Derek but each other.

Stiles is on the floor next to Boyd, his head leaning back on Erica’s knee. He’s a comforting line of heat against Derek’s leg. It’s not enough, though. Derek gently rests a hand on Stiles's shoulder and stretches his other arm across the back of the couch behind Isaac. It’s cozy but not suffocating. _Much_ better than being under Stiles’s “puppy pile.” 

People trickle away after the movie but Stiles stays behind, as usual. No matter how long he's there, he has a few more things he wants to talk about with Derek after everyone else leaves. His cup is empty and he’s too lazy to get up, so he grabs Derek’s and takes a sip then hands it back. Derek's lip curls and he pointedly sets the cup down on the table. Stiles just rolls his eyes and takes it as permission to drink the rest.  

“So?” 

“Huh?” Derek just stares at him. “Oh. Uh, Allison’s back in town for the summer, you know.” Derek judges him silently with his eyebrows. “Look, things are good with the pack, right? We’re good.” Derek’s eyebrows concede the point. “But if you want them to stay good--if you want to keep things good with Scott--you have to make _peace_ with Allison.” Derek’s eyebrows are immovable. Stiles sighs, “Fine. But we’re revisiting this topic.” Derek’s entire face frowns at the finger Stiles is waving at it.  

“Ok. Fine. ... New topic! I think the pack should have a sleepover. Here.” 

“What.” 

“Yup. Blanket fort. Movie marathon. Puppy pile. Big bowls of popcorn-- _not pretzels_ , Derek,  _pop.corn_. Seriously,” he sighs. “Look, the training’s going well. Really well, actually. And the praise thing is great. You see it, right? Every time you compliment them, they do even better after. Like you’re their big brother and they’re trying to impress you. I mean, we’re not about to enter Boyd-hug territory yet, but we're headed in that direction, dude.”  

“Thanks.” 

“Just call ’em like I see ’em.” 

“No, I mean:  _thanks_. That’s you. _You_ did that. I didn’t know how. I never know how. But you figure it out.  _Thank you, Stiles_.”  

Stiles just gapes at him like he grew a second head. And, yeah. He’s not good about accepting help. Or expressing gratitude when help is forced on him. It’s another thing he’s working on, though. Derek sees the moment when Stiles can’t resist the urge anymore, throwing himself arms-first at Derek and squeezing as hard as he can. Derek is so surprised he almost lets them tip over. He swallows hard and hugs Stiles back, tentatively at first. When Stiles squeezes harder, he lets himself lean into it and squeeze back.  

When Stiles pulls away, Derek must look as shell-shocked as he feels. “Whoa dude. Did I just overload your circuits? You need a reboot?”  

Derek pushes him away gently. “I’m not a  _robot_ , Stiles.” 

“I know,” Stiles says quietly. “I do. I’ve known that for a long time.” He clears his throat. “Ooooookay. So, we’ll make plans for the sleepover later, yeah? I should, uh, go. Now. Bye!” 

Stiles runs out and Derek collapses on the couch, completely overwhelmed by the day. But in a good way for once. He’s not sure at all what’s going on with him and Stiles. But he can’t deny the changes are good for the pack. The pack's solid now. A real pack. A healthy pack. And maybe that’s always been because of Stiles. 

Stiles runs back in to grab his forgotten backpack and Derek just stares at him in wonder. Stiles turns to wave and inhales sharply, rocking back on his heels. Derek wonders what Stiles is seeing on his face now. He doesn't even know what he's feeling himself, so he has no idea how much he's letting slip. Derek doesn’t say anything, just looks right back at him. Stiles snaps out of it, yelling “Bye!” over his shoulder and running back out.  

Derek lets out a confused sigh and lets himself fall asleep right there on the couch. No energy left to get up and go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, votes on what movie they watch?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erica and Isaac come over at 6 am to watch cartoons. For no reason that Derek can guess.

Sleeping on the couch was a bad choice. Or maybe crappy furniture is the problem. To make Derek’s morning worse, Erica and Isaac come over to watch cartoons. _At 6 am_. For no reason that he can guess. They just sit on the floor, leaning back on the couch. And on him. They watch quietly and the contact is … calming. He dozes for the next hour or so. After that the rest of the pack wanders in bit by bit, bringing folding chairs, paper plates, plastic cups, napkins. Derek doesn’t ask. It’s still too early for this shit. 

Stiles and Scott arrive last. It’s about 11 and he hears a whistle from the outside. “A little help here? Don’t leave all the heavy lifting for the token puny human in the pack, assholes!” There’s two huge coolers. Seven reusable grocery bags straining their seams. And a _grill_. Stiles shoves him at it with a huge grin on his face. 

“Consider it a _very_ belated housewarming gift, dude.” Derek just shakes his head and squeezes Stiles’s shoulder before lifting the grill. Stiles manages to wrestle two of the overflowing grocery bags into the house without disaster. It’s a miracle, really. Derek doesn’t have time to look inside the bags before Stiles drags him outside to set up the grill. 

Stiles whispers, “I thought maybe a BBQ today would be a nice time to invite Allison, Lydia, and Danny over.” Derek glares at him, but Stiles just looks back calmly. “I didn’t mention it to the others. But, just … we should.” 

He closes his eyes for a moment, and picks his battle carefully. “ … Why Danny?”

Stiles ticks his reasons off on his fingers. “Ok, see, Danny’s super useful with computers. You remember. You were _there_. With your tattoo.” Stiles seems to get distracted, raking his gaze up and down at Derek. “Uhhhhh … oh! And if Jackson ever comes home, we’ll need Danny onboard to handle him. … Plus Danny and Lydia are really tight, especially since Jackson left.” 

“And why are we inviting _Lydia_?” 

“Ok. Really?” He sighs. “You and I are gonna start playing some strategy games soon. Seriously. Just because you’re pretty and strong doesn’t mean you have to act dumb. Even Lydia grew out of that phase.” 

“ _Stiles_.” 

“Ok, ok. Look: you and Allison are iffy, I knooooow, but she and Scott still think they’re ‘meant to be,’” he says, making air quotes. “And ‘If you wanna be my lover, ya gotta get with my friends’ and all that,” he sings. He has a surprisingly nice voice, even in falsetto. But his low speaking voice is much nicer. When Stiles gets on a roll, sometimes Derek forgets to pay attention to the actual words. They fight less that way, too. 

“So, if you want Scott, you get Allison, dude. And if you want to keep Allison, you need _Lydia_. She’s the only one as smart as I am anyway, and at least as ruthless. I can’t think of everything all the fucking time, you know. I mean, _Molotov cocktails_ for fucksake. You _want_ her on the team. And if Jackson comes back, you definitely _need_ her on the team. And Danny, too. Plus, Danny’s super chill. He and Boyd are gonna get along famously. Promise you. No, no … better than promise: I _bet_ you! Oh, hey, did I tell you Boyd’s been teaching Allison how to fix cars?” 

“So we’re back to Allison again,” he says, ignoring the stupid bet. 

“Yep. Uuuuuuuunavoidable.” Stiles throws an arm over his shoulder and leans in, talking quietly. “Look, I know it’s gonna suck, ok? And you don’t know what to say to her because it … it’s a fucking mess, you know. It really is. A fucking tragedy of, like, biblical proportions. And how do you get past that, right? Plus you’re just bad at talking still.” Derek grimaces to keep himself from chuckling. Stiles does _not_ need the encouragement. And he’s not really wrong. 

“But … you’re getting better? No, you are, dude. Totally.” He pulls Derek tighter. “Still, I know _you don’t want to_. So, ok. Here’s what you do.” Stiles slips away to grab him by the shoulders. “Here’s your, like, script, right? Just tell her _sincerely_ that even though you bit her mom accidentally while rescuing Scott, and even though you didn’t like her mom and her mom hated you, you’re still _super sorry_ that because of that accident Allison lost her mom. And that you’ll always regret how things turned out. And you just want to, like, keep the peace. And she’d be really helpful with that. And you’re on the same side.” 

Derek raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, but Stiles is on a roll. “She’ll probably cry a little. Or maybe punch you. Probably both. So just stand there quietly and let her, ok? I mean, only one hit, though. No more than that. Because it was not your fucking fault. And then when she’s done with crying or whatever, just give her some food. It’ll be awkward, but it should be fine. And … and eventually it’ll be good. Really.” 

Derek just stares at him for an uncomfortably long time. Stiles doesn’t back down, just pulls his hands away. He has his arms crossed in front of his chest now. He looks nervous. Derek growls lowly because he doesn’t want to deal with this today. Stiles still doesn’t back down. Of course. Has he ever? And, fuck, he’s _right_ about this. Derek knows it. So he just nods. “Fine. Call her. Them. Whatever. I’ll cook. Rest is on you.” 

“Always is, chief!” Stiles tells him with a light smack on the shoulder. Derek squeezes his hand and gives a small smile in return. Because, really, it’s not like he can disagree with that either. 

Stiles reaches up and ruffles Derek’s sleep-flattened hair before pushing him back toward the house. “Go get dressed. I’ll get things set up.” 

Cartoons, BBQs, and apologizing to hunters? Derek wonders how this is his life now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, this fic is going to be like 95% fluff, 4% angst, maybe 1% smut, and probably 0% plot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek pushes his face away, feeling a little raw. “You love anyone who feeds you.”

Derek’s resigned himself to Allison, Lydia, and Danny hanging around with the pack all the time. It’s … not awful. The research goes much more quickly. Danny still hasn’t been able to track down Peter, though. As long as he’s _not in Beacon Hills_ , everyone’s happy enough. 

The humans have started sparring sometimes, too. And target practice. He knows it’s good for them to be able to fight if the wolves aren’t around. But it makes him nervous. He tries to keep his head in the game. Not get distracted watching. It’s easier on cooler days. When _people_ are wearing real clothes. But today it’s hot and the guys are stripped down to just shorts. Women in shorts and the tight, sleeveless half-shirt things soccer players wear. 

Stiles has a gash on his leg from tripping on a root. But he keeps fighting. The scent has Derek on edge. Stiles snaps at him again to stop hovering. “It’s just a flesh wound,”* Stiles says with a bad British accent and a snort. Derek knows he’s missing something. Again. But he won’t give Stiles the satisfaction of asking. When he turns away, Stiles just laughs. 

After, Stiles hangs back so they can continue working when the others go. There’s always some lore to research or scroll to translate or treaty to draft. Or they watch terrible martial arts movies and talk quietly about the pack’s future. Stiles pronounces it “ridiculously domestic for two dudes who aren’t actually together.” Derek blushes and Stiles pinches his cheek. 

Sometimes Stiles is a gross college guy and just rubs a towel over his sweaty head and throws clean clothes on his dirty body after sparring. But Derek _always_ showers right away. Stiles seems to distract him before he gets around to putting on a shirt. It takes him a while to notice because Stiles’s emotions are always complex. _So many_ layers of chemosignals to sort out. Eventually he gets that Stiles always smells happiest when the pack goes home. When it’s the two of them.

Today’s a grungy Stiles day. Derek has to keep him at arm’s length because it’s _revolting_.

“Dude, I’m cold. Come keep me warm.” 

“NO. You stink.” 

“Oh. Uh … these are all the clean clothes I had with me.” He lifts his arm to sniff himself. “ … I could just head home?” 

Derek sighs. “Go shower. I’ll bring you clothes.”

Stiles comes back with a borrowed T-shirt in his hands. The sweatpants hang dangerously low on his hips. Derek tries not to stare at the patch of hair curling out above the waistband. 

“Dude, it’s really nice of you to let me wear these since _you know_ I’m freeballing it. I’ll wash ’em twice before I bring ’em back. Promise.” 

 _Holy_. Derek very aggressively doesn’t let himself think about that right now. “What’s wrong with the shirt?” 

“What? Oh. Still too hot right now. Ohmygod, hot shower. Sooooooo hot. Super sexy. I want to marry your shower, dude. I want to kiss your enormous water tank. I want to whisper sweet nothings to your showerhead. Seriously, Derek. The water pressure here is unfuckingbelievable. I’m just gonna start coming here everyday to shower.”

Derek’s eyes go wide. He can’t think of a single thing to say. He needs some distance. Needs to leave the room. Now. He turns away. Walks quickly to the kitchen for some water. 

“So, movie time?” 

“Yeah,” he croaks out, coming back in with two cups of water. “Pizza should be here soon.” 

“ _Awesome_. I love you, dude.” Stiles drops down on the couch next to him, bumping his shoulder in thanks.

Derek pushes his face away. He’s feeling a little raw. “You love anyone who feeds you.”

“ _Truth_.” Stiles leans forward, kneading his own shoulders. “Ugh, I’m so tired. And _sore_. Sooooooo fucking sore today.” 

“C’mere.” Derek drags him over and pushes him down to sit in front of him. “Where?”

 “ _Every_ where. But my neck and shoulders mostly? God, do you assholes ever even get muscle aches ever?” Stiles shoots him a dirty look over his shoulder. 

“Not like humans. But when muscles stitch back together. Cuts, bullets. Being impaled was worst. Kept healing around the pipe. Worse when it came out. But no muscle aches from just working out.” 

“One: that is so gross. So. Gross. Two: I hate you _all_.” He leans over and rests his head on his knees. Derek pulls him back upright and starts massaging his bare shoulders. “Shiiiiiiit. I take it back. I love you so fucking much right now. Deeeeeeeeeerek. You are my _favorite_ wolf.” 

Derek inhales sharply, wishing it were true. Stiles’s hyperbole _kills_ him sometimes. “Don’t let Scott hear.” 

“Nope. _You_. This is amaaaaaaaaaaazing and I want it to never eeeeeeeeeeend.” 

“Not even for pizza?” 

“Close call. But, see, you’re giving me _both_. I’m dangerously close to proposing here, Derek. Seriously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Monty Python and the Holy Grail clip: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikssfUhAlgg>


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles doesn’t exactly return Derek’s sweatpants. He just brings them back and puts them in an empty drawer. Claims the space is his now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, the wait between writing the latest chapter and actually posting it is killing me. I just want to post everything I've written so far. But I've learned from [Don't Come After Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4651284), so I won't. But, just so you know, the wait hurts for the writer, too!

Stiles doesn’t exactly return Derek’s sweatpants. He just brings them back and puts them in an empty drawer. Claims the space is _his_ now. He adds more clothes over time. Soon Stiles has probably a week’s worth at Derek’s. And a toothbrush. Other pack members leave things there too. He has to go buy an extra dresser for them. Stiles refuses to move his shit over, though. The house doesn't feel like Derek's space anymore. It’s more an “our place” now. 

People just keep coming and going. Whenever they want. Even if Derek’s not home. Stiles apparently borrowed his key and made copies for the pack. He didn’t ask, of course. “What, were you going to say no if I asked? … Exactly. I was just being efficient, dude. Don't worry. Wolves and me only.”

Derek’s looking forward to today’s practice. It’ll definitely help him work out his frustration at them colonizing his home. Today he’s teaching them to keep fighting through the pain. Fast healing is always a blessing and a curse. Broken bones knit in minutes. But Isaac assures them it still hurts just as much. 

Humans aren't invited today. Except Stiles, of course. He’ll be watching them fight. Identifying their tells and weaknesses. Constantly shouting out orders. Derek still doesn’t trust the others not to use the information against the pack later. Stiles didn't even fight him on it. He expected him to, but Stiles just shook his head. 

“I don’t fuck around with pack safety, Derek. We can help the humans _learn to fight_. But we’re not gonna help them learn to fight _against_ _us_. They. are. not. pack.” That’s why Stiles gets to stay. Plus he's better than Derek with strategy. And figuring out how to get them to work together as a team. 

“So _they’re_ not pack. But _you_ are?” He’s mostly joking. But they’ve never talked about it. So part of him wants to hear Stiles say it. 

“Ha ha, asshole. Anyway, eventually we’re going to have to practice fighting with me in the mix too. I know you hate the idea. And we’re not there yet. Just giving you advanced warning so you can start freaking out.”

“You’re not fighting us. I won't stand there and let them hurt you.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “ _I’m_ not gonna be fighting _them_. _We’re_ gonna fight _you_. And I know you’ll pull your punches. ’Cause I'm precious like a Fabergé egg, right? And I always surprise people, right?* Whoa, I totally am.” He grins. “Uh ... not the point. Not the point. The _point_ is ... What's my point? Oh! Pretend all you want that you're worried about protecting me, Derek. But _you_ know and _I_ know it's really ’cause if you hurt me  _I’ll. get. even_. In a _really creative way_ that you will regret for weeks. _Weeks_ , Derek. And you know I fucking can.” 

“God help anyone who strays into our territory.”

“ _Exactly_. Anyway, I have it all planned out. But we’re not there, so _no need to argue_ about it yet.”

“Oh, we’re gonna argue about it?” 

“Ooooooobviously.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “For like three days.” 

“What.” 

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe four. It’s a rough estimate. Depends if I have to make you sit through the PowerPoint before you agree to it.” 

“You have a … of course you do.” 

“What? I'm _super_ productive when I can't sleep.” Stiles shrugs it off.

“ … You can come here.” 

Stiles cocks his yeah. “ … I know? ... Because I already do? Which you can tell because I am here? Right now … ?” 

Derek rolls his eyes. “When you can’t sleep. Come here.” 

“Oh. … Yeah? … Why???” 

“I’m probably awake too.” They just look at each other grimly. 

The pack bursts into the backyard then, breaking the mood. 

“Well. _Somebody_ looks excited about breaking bones and painting the yard with blood.” 

“ _Stiles_.” 

“What? _Look_ at them, dude.” Stiles isn’t entirely wrong. This is going to be messy. He hates it.

As usual, Derek takes and gives most of the damage. For the first couple hours, anyway. After that it’s a free-for-all. Around the three-hour mark, Stiles decides to send them home before they actually murder each other. 

“I don’t know why everyone’s so angry with _me_ ,” Stiles whines. “ _I_ didn’t hit anyone. I’ve just been sitting on the sidelines yelling out pointers.” Erica growls at him. “Ok, yeah. I get it.” Scott saves Stiles by herding everyone out to their cars. 

Stiles follows Derek into the house, ordering pizza while Derek showers. When he gets out, Stiles is busy filling up the Netflix queue with old Star Trek and new superhero movies. And Japanese cartoons where everyone has really big eyes. It takes Stiles a few minutes to notice Derek’s back. 

“Oh. Hey. I was thinking: I know you don’t get muscle aches or whatever. But that dislocated shoulder today looked _pretty fucking awful_. I thought … you might be sore from healing? And … if you want … I could return the favor? Um, the massage, I mean. … You know, if you want. The, uh, the pizza place is  _slammed_. Won’t get here for like a half-hour. So you could lie down? And I could … um, if you want ... massage ... you.” 

Derek is frozen in shock. The offer is so unexpected. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Right. Or we could just go ahead and start the movie before the food gets here. I've seen it before so I don't care. We can just pause later. It's fine. And, um, I think we still have popcorn in the kitchen?”

Derek just stares. He _wants_ this so much. But it’s a big jump. Maybe too fast. Too soon. And even if he felt ready, he doesn’t know _how_ to say yes. Stiles gives him a small smile. Walks up close. Takes him by the hand. Leads him over to the couch and points at the floor. Derek sits quietly. Stiles crawls over to sit behind him, pulls his legs in. Holding Derek tight between his knees. That’s good. He needs the pressure to hold him together right now. Sometimes it’s like Stiles can read his mind. No, Stiles would say _he just reads Derek's eyebrows_.

Stiles has his hands on Derek’s shoulders now. Over his shirt. Just resting there. Is he waiting? For what? … Oh. Derek nods and Stiles starts kneading. It digs the shirt into his skin. It’s _irritating_. Not relaxing at all. Derek taps his hand and Stiles stops. Derek hunches forward to pull off his shirt then leans back again. Stiles hums in approval and skims hands over his bare neck and shoulders. Just enough pressure not to tickle. The heat of his hands feels good. Derek nods again. 

Stiles is very thorough. There’s only room to reach his neck and shoulders. So what Stiles can reach gets a lot of attention. Derek is half asleep, half excited. Strange combination. 

Stiles runs hands up his neck into Derek's hair. He can’t help the groan that slips out. Stiles chuckles quietly and tilts Derek’s head back. He circles fingertips over Derek’s forehead then combs his hair back over and over. It feels _amazing_. So does the shampooing motion Stiles does next. He rests his head against Stiles’s knee, too relaxed to hold it up anymore. He drifts off with Stiles still petting his hair. 

Knocking at the door wakes him. He grudgingly lets Stiles slip away to get the food. Tries not to feel the loss of warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read about the Fabergé eggs: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faberg%C3%A9_egg>


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a new plan he hadn’t told Derek about. Didn’t bring it up in private so they could discuss it. At length. Loudly, like usual. No. Stiles just announces it. With no fucking warning. _In front of everyone._ And … the idiots love it! For a long minute Derek misses the days when he wouldn’t feel bad for slamming Stiles into something.

Derek watches Stiles drive off that night and wonders what to do the next couple of days. The pack’ll probably stay away for a while after that bloody brawl. They’ll need time to cool off. Stiles’ll probably drag them over later in the week for a movie or something to patch things up. Until then … ? 

It’s been so long since Derek’s had a day alone. He doesn’t even know what he’ll do. Get gas and groceries. Fix the drip in the bathroom sink. … And the rest of the day? And the day after? … 

Maybe he’ll finally dig a garden. Stiles complains a lot about having to beg Deaton for what he needs. He can’t have a garden at his shitty apartment though. So it’s Derek’s or nowhere. … A pack-house garden. Was he dropping hints all this time? Why wouldn't he just ask. Or, really, tell? Derek would have to tend it, of course. Because Stiles … boring repetitive tasks aren't his area. Derek thinks it might be relaxing, though. Might make the land really feel like his … _theirs_. Maybe he can surprise Stiles with it.

The next morning, though, he’s barely back from the grocery store when Isaac sends a group text. He’s bringing burgers and fries to practice. Scott brings milkshakes. Erica and Boyd bring chips and soda. Stiles wanders in last, empty-handed.

Practice goes well for a couple hours. Then they start getting bored. Stiles rolls his eyes at their complaining. 

“Awwww, does throwing your friends into trees fill you with _ennui_? So soon? Look at your poor emo wolves, Derek,” Stiles simpers. He laughs for a second but it quickly turns sinister. Stiles has a disturbing gleam in his eye now. _Oh shit._  Whatever Stiles is about to do, Derek's pretty sure he won't like it.

 _Oh shit_ is right. Stiles has a new plan he hadn’t told Derek about. Didn’t bring it up _in private_ so they could discuss it. At length. Loudly, like usual. No. Stiles just announces it. With no fucking warning. _In front of everyone_. And … the idiots love it! For a long minute Derek misses the days when he wouldn’t feel bad for slamming Stiles into something.  

Derek sends everyone home. Immediately. He grabs Stiles by the collar and growls in his face. He can’t even form words to express his anger. Stiles just looks at him. Waiting. His heart is racing, but he’s not even scared. And his face shows nothing. … He smells  _miserable_ though. Derek wonders how he does that.  

Stiles just stands there looking at him. Derek finds it disturbing. It throws him off balance. He’s smelling more and more miserable the longer this goes on. Now Derek’s so  _worried_  about Stiles that he forgets to be  _angry_. 

He steps close and leans his forehead against Stiles’s. He hears Stiles’s heartbeat speed up for a second and then slow back down closer to normal as he lets out a breath. His scent calms enough that Derek can breathe again comfortably, can _think_ again.

“ _Why_ , Stiles?” 

Stiles doesn’t move away. Just reaches up and puts his palms against Derek’s neck. “I’m sorry. That was … fuck … It was super, super shitty of me, man. I guess I thought ... I dunno ... we could just _skip ahead?_ Past the arguing and all. I thought if everyone else were excited about the idea then you and I wouldn’t have to go around and around about it. And, I mean, they were just so. fucking. bored. And, dude, _they are so into my idea_. It's gonna be awesome.”  

Derek growls lowly. “We could’ve done _something else_. Anything else. You didn't give me a chance.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“ _Tracking_ , Stiles. Tracking is  _safe_. The pack needs practice. It's fun. Lydia can plan it. You know it won't be easy. Tracking is fun for humans and wolves. And no blood.”  

Stiles groans, dropping his hands to his sides and shifting his forehead to rest on Derek’s shoulder instead. “Well, fuck. Look at you being all  _sensible_  and having  _good ideas_ ,” Stiles mumbles before leaning back to look at him.  

“So … they can track for 2-3 days. While we fight about _your dumbest plan ever_.” He gives Stiles half a smile. Stiles's scent goes confusing for a minute. Happy. Relieved. … Something else? And … a hint of lust? He leans in and sniffs up Stiles’s neck trying to figure out the rest. But when he gets close a new burst of lust blocks the rest out.  

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. Derek hums. “What are you doing?” Derek pulls Stiles’s collar down and buries his nose in the crook of his neck. “Oh, holy fuck.  _Derek!_ ”  

That gets through to him. Derek stumbles back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t’ve … I just … You  _hide_   _so much_. I thought I could … ”  

“What? Take a sniff instead of  _using your words?!”_ Derek just huffs. “There’s really no need for … that. Open book here, dude.”

“You’re  _not_. Your face … You _shut down_. Not all the time. But when you do it … ” He growls. “And you  _talk_. All the time. But not about what I … not about  _these_  things. Important things. And I can’t … Scent is _better_.” 

“Oooooooor you could just  _ask,_ like an actual adult person.” Derek scowls at that but it breaks the tension at least. “C’mon dude. Lay it on me. What’s your question?”  

“I don’t know!”  

“ ... Oh my _god_. … Fine. Ok. What did you  _smell_ , then?”  

“What?”  

“ _What did you smell_? On me. You know, before you decided to use my neck as a nosewarmer.”  

“ … You smelled …  _miserable_. You just stood there. Nothing on your face. But your scent … It was just … misery. Pouring out.” 

Stiles chuckles and hangs his head for a moment. “Well, yeah! Look, it’s like … Ok. I just … I love  _arguing_  with you, but I hate  _fighting_  with you, dude.” He shrugs. “You were soooooooo mad at me. And then I was mad at myself. Because, yeah, I knew I’d win if I put you on the spot in front of the pack. But then I looked at you and … I felt bad. I didn’t want to win anymore. Not if it meant you losing in front of the pack. … Look, are you sure you want to fight about this right now? We could reschedule for tomorrow.”  

“ _Now_. I need to know right now! Why _the hell_ do you think the humans should be SHOOTING our pack?! How the fuck does _having a hunter shoot our pack_ seem like a good idea to you?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... this is turning out to be a longer fic than expected. Chapters 7-9 are written and I've sketched out chapter 10 already. Chapter 11 (or maybe it will end up being 12) is mostly written already--it's actually the first scene I wrote for this fic. Holy hell, it's just taking a long-ass time to get Derek (and Stiles) there. Oy!
> 
> Also, there's not really any plot to this story. It's a smattering of snapshots of their life and Derek getting over years of really fucked up shit happening to him. So I'll probably just write bits and pieces until I run out of inspiration and then leave it open-ended so I can come back to it every once in a while. 
> 
> I do want to get back to my other stories soon!
> 
> So, yeah, you've been warned. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You want our friends to shoot our pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ready for some angst? Have some anyway!

“Whoa, dude. I did not say we should have a hunter shoot our pack. First of all, Allison is an _ex-_ hunter--as in former, previous, _non-practicing_. Or, at least, when she is practicing it’s on our behalf. For our benefit.”

Derek takes in a huge breath, lets it out slowly. 

“Plus, that’s _not actually what I said anyway_ , ok? Just … ok … so, my plan is for our merry band of friendly human sidekicks to shoot at the wolfy members of the pack--i.e., NOT ME--while I sit safely somewhere to watch and evaluate strengths and weaknesses.” Derek just scowls at him. It’s not as effective as it used to be. 

“C’mon, Derek. It’s just like the fighting yesterday, really, in a way. The pack’ll just be, like, running and ducking and trying not to get shot more while they're already in pain. They’ll be learning better how to avoid arrows and bullets and knives and shit. And the humans’ll get practice with targets moving at were-speed. Which is good for us. Because we _want_ them to be able to help defend themselves _and us_ against other, non-friendly, faster-than-human beings who might attack.”  

“What about not giving away our secrets?” 

“I know, dude. But … I honestly don’t think doing this would give away any of our tricks? The pack isn’t going to be fighting back, for one. They’re gonna run and dodge and fight through the pain. Evasive shit only. And the humans are gonna be so busy trying to actually hit something that’s moving really fucking fast, anyway.” 

“You done?” 

“ _No_. Just ... it'll be fine. I’m not gonna give running commentary about our weaknesses like I did yesterday. I’ll just take notes and the pack can discuss my observations when the humans leave. Or, no, wait, this is better: I'll just  _whisper_ my comments so the not-pack can't hear. … We really do need a name for them, by the way. They are not pack, obviously. But they’re not exactly not-pack either. They’re like … pseudo pack? Pack-adjacent? … Pack friends?”  

“Stiles! None of that changes that you want your friends to _shoot our pack_.”  

“Ok, yeah, fine. It sounds kinda awful when you say it _that way_. But, I mean, they won't even have  _wolfsbane_ , you know. Just, like, _regular_ arrows and bullets. … Though that does remind me of _another_ idea you’ll hate … ” 

“Seriously?! What now?”  

“Strategically, for me to  _win_  the argument, I should definitely wait to tell you about that other plan until after you see how  _great_  this target practice idea turns out. Obviously.” He grins for a second but gets serious again quickly. He says, much more quietly, “But I think maybe I owe it to you to just suck it up and tell you now.”

Derek nods. 

“Ooooookay. Shit. Ok.” Stiles starts pacing. “So just, like, give it a minute to sink in before you get mad and start growling in my face and shit. Ok? Because it’s a  _good_  idea. Really. Well, I mean, an  _awful_  idea, but a good one, you know?”

Derek just waits.

“Right. I should just say it. Now.  _Say it now_. Just spit it out, Stiles. Noooooooow. … ” He takes a ridiculously exaggerated deep breath and then mumbles quickly: “I think I should get some wolfsbane arrows and bullets and you and I should shoot the pack and let them suffer for like half an hour with wolfsbane poisoning before curing them. Without the humans here to see it, of course.”  

“ _WHAT?!_ ”  

“ ... What doesn’t kill them makes them stronger and all that? I mean, you and Scott already know what it's like. And you survived and shit. I think it'll help them in a fight if they already know what to expect. And how to, like, push through. It's really just the logical extension of these other two plans.” 

“Is this a joke? You think this'll trick me into thinking your  _other terrible ideas_  are less awful because this one is so much worse?”  

“Ummmmm, no actually? Though, to be fair, that  _does_  toooooootally sound like me. So, you know, good guess, I guess? Excellent critical thinking there. But, uh, wrong, actually. This time.”  

“Utterly stupid. _Unbelievably_ stupid. So fucking stupid!" He scrubs at his face. He just ... "You know what? I don’t need to fight with you about this. They’ll  _never_  agree to it anyway. No way. … Why the _hell_ … Why would you ever assume they’d let you _poison them with wolfsbane_?”  

“Not me, _us_. They're gonna let  _us_  poison them. They will, dude. Sorry, but, you know. And here's how I know: they totally already let you break their bones. And they seem pretty fucking excited about getting shot with regular bullets and arrows. I think they totally are gonna go for this too. Especially once you tell them how it might fucking _save their lives later_ , I mean. So, yeah, I'm like 85% sure it's gonna happen.”  

“ _Fuck_.”  

“Hey. I'm not just ... I'm not trying to be a dick or, like, put people in danger or whatever. It's like a controlled risk now for future safety. But, hey, _we don’t have to decide today_. About any of it, I guess." Stiles stares off unfocused for a minute then nods.

"So, yeah … I’m just gonna go. Home. I’ll email you my bullet points--no pun intended--and you can think about both ideas. And talk with the fuzzheads about it if you want. Without me here. I won’t interfere. I won’t, like, talk to them about it behind your back or anything. Won't undermine your authority and shit. … I’ll just stay out of it.” Stiles raises a hand like he’s swearing an oath.  

“I’m sorry, Derek. I _so_ fucked this up. It’s your pack and I _totally_ overstepped. And it was just so shitty to ambush you in front of them. … I really am sorry.”  

Derek's overwhelmed. Frozen. 

“Right, ok. Just, uh, text or whatever? Whenever you're ready. I’ll stay away from you and the rest of your pack. … Except for Scott. Obviously. Because _Scott_.” He starts backing away. 

Derek has no words. He’s still  _so angry_. But he doesn’t want Stiles to go. Not with everything all ... unfinished. So Derek closes the distance. Wraps him up in a hug. After a second, Stiles melts into him. He smells grateful and relieved. Still anxious and sad too, though. And  _guilty_.   

There’s only one thing Derek can think to say: “Not  _my_  pack.  _Ours_.”  

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles whispers and clings tighter, leaking tears on the shoulder of Derek’s shirt. Derek lets him go then. 

“Good luck with tracking tomorrow,” Stiles says quietly as he leaves. 

Derek tugs the damp shirt away from his skin as he watches Stiles walk away. He hangs his head for a minute before going inside to take a long, hot shower. He stands under the scalding spray forever. It doesn’t help relax him any, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if my note in the previous chapter was unclear. This is going to be an open-ended fic and I might add to it from time to time. But I'm going to get them to a decent stopping place before I wander off to work on other things for a while. Don't fret!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the “pack-and-friends meeting,” Derek barks out his orders for the scent training. Erica jokingly asks if Stiles is already hiding in the preserve somewhere for them to find or if he just has a hot date tonight.

Derek isn’t sure what he expected, but Stiles is true to his word. No calls. No texts. No dropping by the house. It’s not that Derek expected him to  _lie_. But, as he once told Derek himself, Stiles does “dynamically reevaluate situations and revise certain stances on the advisability of maintaining previous promises based on newly discovered information.”  

The humans are here with the pack today. Derek barks out his orders for the scent training. Isaac jokingly asks if Stiles is already hiding in the preserve somewhere for them to find. Erica leers and asks if he's home getting ready for a hot date tonight. Derek growls, feels his eyes flash red. Everyone goes silent. He hasn’t lost control like that in a long time. Danny fakes a laugh and strips his shirt off and runs away to hide it. After that, no one else asks.  

They continue tracking the next few days. Derek’s waiting for more questions but everyone’s just … giving him space. The wolves are restless, though. Bored again. At least none of them brought up Stiles’s suggestion in font of the humans. Yet. But they must be thinking about it.  

Derek settles on a compromise. “You idiots seemed excited for some new piercings. Boyd, crossbow. Humans go home. Now.” They pout at him but leave quickly. Without Stiles there to hold his temper in check, no one challenges him. 

“Ok, spread out. One arrow each. In your dominant arm. After that, try to rip it out while not letting Boyd shoot you. Move!”  

Scott narrows his eyes but nods at him. Derek moves around the sidelines giving them pointers. Occasionally dodging stray arrows himself. Erica knocks the bow from Boyd’s grip and turns it on him. The practice continues. Derek tells Isaac to take a turn shooting. Then Scott, who can’t bring himself to try to hit anyone. Derek tells him to aim better or Derek’ll take over. Scott buckles down.

It’s a surprisingly quiet exercise. Bows are silent where guns are loud. There are some grunts of pain. But no one’s yelling or taunting each other. They just nod and try Derek’s suggestions without argument. As if they know things are fragile. 

They’re right. Things feel … incomplete. A pack member is _missing_. His … Derek’s person isn’t here. And the quiet is getting to him. Stiles would think it’s hilarious that the pack is finally following his orders. And now he’s _upset_ about it. Stiles would _laugh his ass off_. 

The continued silence of Stiles’s absence over the next few days is maddening. No one talks back. No one questions him. No one even says Stiles’s name. Nothing. The wolves come over, train, follow orders, and leave. No hanging out. No pizza parties. No movie nights. No humans. Worse, though, they’re not even improving at practice anymore. 

It’s been a week of radio silence now. Everything is painfully off-balance. Derek feels brittle and disconnected from his own pack again. And the teary hug with Stiles was the last time he touched anyone except by accident.  

The thought distracts him. He loses focus for a minute and doesn’t see it coming. Now Derek has a face full of Isaac’s blood. It’s disgusting. He sends them home and jumps in the shower before their cars even pull away.  

He throws on some sweats and collapses on the couch. Pulls up Netflix and tries to settle on something. Everything on the list reminds him of Stiles. Of course. Stiles _made_ the list. Derek sighs and pulls out his phone. Texts Stiles asking where that email about his stupid plan is.  

Stiles calls him immediately. “Heeeeeeeey, Derek. I’m so fucking _bored_ , dude. Wanna fight about this shit in person instead of over email?”  

Derek sighs, weary. “No fighting tonight. Just come over. Dinner?” 

“Yeah.” Derek can hear a smile in his voice. “I’ll pick up food. Anything particular you’re in the mood for tonight?”  

“Surprise me.”  

Stiles laughs. “I’ll do my best,” he says and hangs up.  

“Always do,” Derek whispers.  

Stiles shows up with about an entire Chinese takeout menu worth of food. “Figured all you’d eaten for days was yogurt and cold pizza.” As usual, he’s not wrong. 

It feels like it’s been  _years_  since Derek’s seen him. Stiles tilts his head, eyes searching Derek’s face. Derek just stares back at him. Stiles gives him a wry smile and peels off his own shirt. That’s … what? Derek can’t move. Can’t look away. Has no idea what Stiles is doing.  

He’s rooted to the spot as Stiles approaches. Threads his arms under Derek’s. Pulls them close. Derek sighs into the hug. Holds on tight. Feels the heat of their skin from breastbone to belt. Stiles tips his head to the side. Derek takes the invitation to fill himself with the scent of his missing … pack member. The days-old ache in his chest slides away.  

“Don’t. … Ever. Not again.” 

Stiles lets go. Pulls back to look him in the eyes for a silent moment. Runs hands up Derek’s chest, along his neck, and into the back of his hair, pulls his head forward to rest on Stiles’s. “You too.” He slides his hands back down the sides of Derek’s neck, across his shoulders, down his arms. Derek slumps forward, burying his face back in Stiles’s neck.  

Stiles whispers, “I was thinking I like your idea of putting off the whole talking thing until tomorrow. I, um, I thought maybe … tonight we could do something else?” Derek’s breathing hitches but he nods. “Food first. I’ll tell you after.” 

Derek wants to growl but his stomach beats him to it. They laugh and move over to the couch. After making a healthy dent in the food, they put the rest away. Derek raises an eyebrow, waiting for whatever’s next. He couldn’t even being to guess. 

“So … I brought unscented massage oil. If that’s ok?”  

Derek’s nose wrinkles. “No.”  

“Oh.” Stiles frowns and smells … confused and … embarrassed and … disappointed. “Uh, ok. I thought you’d … Sorry. Ok. So, um,  _movie_?”  

“No. I mean, _no oil_. I don’t like how it feels. Wet. Slippery.”  

“Ah. No wet and slippery for you then. That must make it difficult … ” Stiles seems to get lost for a minute before shaking himself out of it. He smiles and takes Derek’s hand. Pulls him gently to the bedroom. Stiles lays him out on the bed on his stomach.  

He talks quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. So tell me if … It’s just to, you know … to massage both sides at once, I kind of have to sit on … or I could just, like, kneel next to you and do one side at a time, I guess. Just … whatever is better. For you.” 

Derek just squeezes his hand once then turns away and closes his eyes. Stiles gets on the bed. Tentatively straddles Derek’s legs, holding his breath. Derek doesn’t move. Stiles exhales slowly, starts by running palms down from his shoulders to his lower back. 

He digs the heels of his hands into Derek’s lower back on either side of his spine and pushes up toward his head. Then moves his hands farther toward his sides and does it again. Curves fingers over the top of his shoulders and sweeps hands down his arms. Squeezes his hands before moving back up.  

Stiles massages his scalp next. It’s nice but the angle is awkward. That was better when he was sitting up. But he’s not _complaining_. His neck is next. He feels thumbs rubbing just next to his spine. Up and out and back in circles. Definitely nice.

Next Stiles squeezes over and over starting from right at his neck out along the top of his shoulders a few times. Then there are thumbs pressing in beside his shoulder blades. Tracing the curves down and out. Then a lot of kneading and … hmmmm. Everything feels _wonderful_. He can’t concentrate on details anymore. 

He’s soaking in Stiles’s heat and surrounded by his scent. Everything’s good. Stiles smells _happy_. There’s a content rumbling in Derek’s chest. His room smells perfect like this. He wants this moment to stretch on forever. 

Stiles’s weight shifts forward, but nothing’s really registering for Derek right now. He’s delayed in noticing the breath on his neck too. Then Stiles kisses him lightly on the shoulder. Derek jerks in surprise and Stiles yelps and jumps off him, backing away from the bed. Derek gasps and reaches back to where Stiles’s lips had touched his skin. Dry. No trace of the moment except this panic. 

“Shit! Shit shit shit. I’m so … Ohmygod, Derek … I shouldn’t’ve just … without, you know… _Fuck_.”  

Derek sighs and rubs his face in his pillow for a second. He sits up on the edge of the bed, head hung low. He’s not ready for this. Doesn’t want to _talk_ tonight. He grunts. Takes a breath. Tries again: “Surprised me. Just … _stay?_ ”  

He grabs Stiles’s wrist. Pulls him down to sit on the edge of the bed. He lays his head in Stiles’s lap and breathes out slowly. He just wants to be back in that calm place. Wrapped up, warm, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious what WIP _I'm_ obsessed with reading right now, it's [KouriArashi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/profile)'s wicked-long series [The Sum of Its Parts](http://archiveofourown.org/series/31577). Though, I mean, I love ALL their work, really. But HOLY CRAP the Sum series is a fucking masterpiece. So much plot. If someday I could plot like even _a quarter_ as well, I'd be fucking thrilled. And the character development is amazing, too. Just ... UGH. I love it so much!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Aww. I missed you too.”

Derek wakes up at dawn. He’s … upside-down in bed? And alone. Stiles must have slipped out earlier. He tries not to think about how much he wanted to wake up to something different than cold sheets today. 

Last night after the … misunderstanding, Stiles had chuckled and put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Let him rest there in Stiles’s lap. Let him fall asleep with Stiles’s fingers in his hair. It was the best sleep he’d had in days. 

He touches the spot on his shoulder where Stiles had kissed him for a moment and sighs. He scrubs at his face and gets out of bed. Hopes his overreaction didn’t ruin things. Again. Hopes Stiles will still come back to the pack. He promised Derek not to leave again, but that was before. 

Derek sighs heavily and walks bleary-eyed to the kitchen to make some coffee. He gets there to find a half-empty pot already made. Still hot. He pours a cup. Drinks it down quickly, scalding his throat. The pain wakes him up more than the caffeine will. 

His eyes clear and he hears another heartbeat in the house. Stiles. 

“Morning, Aurora.* Want some breakfast? There’s bacon and eggs keeping warm on the stove. And bread and butter for toast if you want.” 

“ … How?”

“Dude, you were sleeping like the dead. I’ve already been to the store and back, updated your Netflix queue, and cooked breakfast. I can’t believe you didn’t hear the door.” 

“Why?” 

“ … Because of spooky werewolf hearing?” 

Derek raises his eyebrows like _Seriously, Stiles?_  

“Oh. _Food_ , Derek. Or did you want us to just have Chinese leftovers? I thought you might want _actual_ breakfast today.” 

“Thought you left.” 

Stiles frowns at him. “You said to stay? Last night? So I thought you wanted … and we haven’t actually talked yet. About training.” 

He pulls Stiles into a hug. “ _Not complaining_. Just thought you left. You’re here. I’m … it’s good.” 

“Yeah?” 

Derek sighs. “Yes. … You’re usually better at … _this_.” 

“At _what_? The awkward morning-after?” Derek jerks in surprise. Stiles pulls away. “Believe it or not, this is actually my _first_. So glad we could share this momentous occasion _together_ , dude,” he says patting Derek on his bare chest. Derek scratches at his beard, uncomfortable. 

“Your bedhead is _spectacular_ , by the way. Also, I’m _in love_ with your mattress. Even though I slept at a really weird angle. But, seriously, my mattress is _shit_. And I love Scotty, but living with him sometimes is … _Anyway_. I slept soooooooo good last night. I might never leave.” He winks at Derek. 

Derek clears his throat. “You can. If you want. Stay here. Whenever.” 

“ … Yeah?” 

“You’re here all the time anyway. Except this week. This week was … ” 

“Not good?” Derek nods. “Aww. I missed you too.” Stiles pats him on the cheek. Derek huffs.

“Last night was, um … ” Stiles chuckles. “Honestly? Best I’ve slept in … fuck, just a really long time. Our walls are so thin and Scott and Allison are _not_ quiet. All the time. At all hours. More than once a day. It’s so annoying. For so many reasons.” 

“Stay here until Allison goes back to school. If you want. Whenever.” Stiles just looks at him, silent. “The, uh, the couch isn’t very comfortable though. I need a new one. Or … or pick a room. I can get another bed. I should have other rooms, anyway. For the pack. If they stay over.” 

Stiles squints at him. “Yeah, no. You totally should. I mean, it's either that or pet beds for the living room.” Derek rolls his eyes. “Um, _any room_ I want?” 

Derek levels a look at him. “Not _mine_. I’m not changing rooms just because you feel like being an annoying asshole today.”

“Oh my god, dude. I wasn’t going to ask you to _change_ rooms … ” 

Derek doesn’t know what that means. Why would he care what other room Stiles picked? “I should set up two … or three? How many guest rooms do we need? And a new couch. Or two? I don't ... You’ll help?” 

“ _Obviously_. So … we’ll all go shopping together and just hope it’s a pack-bonding activity that _doesn’t_ end in bloodshed, then?” 

“No. Just us. We set up the house. They’ll live with it. Or not sleep here.”

“Wow. Tough love, dude. Just, _you know_ they’re gonna pout, right? They’re going to pout _so bad_. It’s going to be awful. Like, it’s gonna take gallons of ice cream and maybe buying a fucking PlayStation to shut them up. And they’re gonna be vicious to you during practice. It will _not_ be pretty. You’ll save me if they gang up on me, right?” 

Derek closes his eyes and sighs. 

“What mattress do _you_ have? ’Cause that’s totally what I want to sleep on for the rest of my life.” 

“ ... I’m not buying you a thousand-dollar mattress so you can crash here a couple nights a month.” 

Stiles looks away for a minute. When he turns back, his smile looks a little off. “Oh alpha, my alpha!** I can't believe you're being a cheapskate with my spinal health on the line. Not all of us can regenerate broken parts, you know. But fiiiiiine.  _Anything_ is better than what I have now, anyway. Ok. I need to see a man about a horse.*** We can go shop after you eat."

Derek stares after him wondering what just happened. Sometimes Stiles's moods cycle so fast his scent doesn't even change. Something just happened. But Derek has no idea what.

“Ok! You ready yet, dude? Oh, I told everyone to go play paintball without us today.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it seemed like a safe, tactically inferior yet probably way more fun and also Derek-approved version of a totally brilliant plan that you and I are not discussing right now.”

“No. Why aren't we with them?”

“We're ‘working on a treaty’ all day.” 

“A treaty.” 

“Yeah, dude. A _peace treaty_. Between you and me,” he winks.“I didn’t tell them that part, though.” He claps Derek on the shoulder. Derek can’t help but smile back. Stiles just points at his plate, so Derek shovels some food down quickly and drops the dishes in the sink.. 

“Gross, dude. But I guess this means we’re ready to go?” Derek nods. “Can I drive the Camaro?” Derek rolls his eyes. “But … !” 

“Don’t argue. Or your new mattress is a sleeping bag.” 

Stiles just laughs so hard Derek’s afraid he’ll suffocate. 

They spend the rest of the morning furniture shopping. Stiles gets occasional paintball updates from the pack. He reads them to Derek as they pick mattresses.

“This is the most _boring_ way to try out mattresses, dude.” Derek blushes.

“Hey, uh ... Scott told me you sort-of took my advice, by the way? With the, um, guns and arrows. I didn’t ask him! He just texted me that first day to say they were doing it. Without the humans. How, uh, how’d it go?” 

“It was ok ... ”

“Yeah? ... But ... ?” 

“We needed you.” 

“Sorry, could you repeat that louder? I think I misheard you.” He grins at Derek from the other side of the bed.

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Wow. You seriously need to work on your pillow talk, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who gets all their facts from Wikipedia? Yup, this writer!
> 
> * Sleeping Beauty’s name is Aurora in the Disney movie. Derek probably has no idea, so the joke and maybe-compliment goes over his head. As Stiles intended. Unless it was Cora’s favorite movie when she was little. Maybe because it’s related to an Italian fairytale called “Sun, Moon, and _Talia_.”**** Derek and Stiles don’t talk about family history. So who knows?
> 
> ** <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6y2Y9i5Sj0>. Also [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Captain!_My_Captain!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O_Captain!_My_Captain!)
> 
> *** [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/See_a_man_about_a_dog](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/See_a_man_about_a_dog)
> 
> **** [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sun,_Moon,_and_Talia](%E2%80%9D) (The darker parts of that fairytale, which includes rape, wouldn’t have been shared with Cora, obviously.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Duuuuuuuuude. Oh my god! That’s the most thoughtful thing you’ve ever done for me. I think I’m gonna cry.” He dabs his napkin at imaginary tears.

Derek stops at Stiles’s favorite Irish pub for lunch on the way home. He doesn't like the place, but Stiles doesn’t know that. He tries to ignore how Stiles is studying him as they eat. 

“Hey, you worried ’bout something?” Stiles asks, setting down his beer. 

“No.” 

Stiles squints at him. “What’s wrong with your food?” 

“What?” 

“Those are the only two options for that … face,” Stiles says, waving a fry at him. He bats the hand away. 

“My sandwich is fine. It just … the smell here is a lot. I don’t like their oil. Or the hand soap. Or the waitress’s perfume.” 

“Then why’d you pick this place, dude?” 

“Best fries in town,” he mumbles. 

“Obviously not if you hate the _oil_ they use. … I _thought_ it was weird you’d come here and get a sandwich instead of fish and chips or at least a burger. But, why’d you get fries? They’re like 90% oil, 10% potato. … Oh my god. _Seriously?_ ” His face brightens, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“Saves five minutes of you deciding whether to order more when you run out.” 

“Duuuuuuuuude. Oh my god! That’s the most thoughtful thing you’ve ever done for me. I think I’m gonna cry.” He dabs his napkin at imaginary tears. 

“I’ve literally _saved your life_.” 

“Whatever. That was reflex. This took _forethought_.” 

“I bought you a bed.” 

Stiles hums and returns to his food. There’s something Stiles isn’t saying. Derek doesn’t push it though. 

They stop at Target for towels and … who-knows-what else. Derek pushes the cart without paying attention. Tries not to think about what Stiles could’ve meant at the diner. 

When they load the car, Derek’s shocked at _how much stuff_ there is. Jumbo unscented hand soap, an unwieldy amount of toilet paper, a bunch of toothbrushes, and tampons. And that’s just what he sees peeking out of the bags. 

“Stiles, I don’t need all this.” 

“Yeah ya totally do. For when people stay over.” 

When they get home, Stiles tells him to wash the towels while he organizes the rest of the stuff in the bathroom closet. The new towels are a dark red. He wonders if that’s tactical or if Stiles just likes the color. 

Stiles grabs another beer and pulls out his laptop. He has the tv on low in the background. Derek gets changed and comes back out in a pair of shorts. Stiles whistles at him when he walks in. He ignores it. Stands behind the couch and squeezes Stiles’s shoulders.

“Feel free to keep doing that.” 

Derek chuckles. “I’m going for a run.” Stiles looks up at him and smiles, pats him on his hand. Derek feels great as he runs. Relaxed. It’s easier when it’s just them. He doesn’t have to be so vigilant. He gets back to the house quickly. He only felt like a short run today. The smell when he opens the door feels like home. When he gets out of the shower, Stiles is still on the computer. It doesn’t look like he’s moved, but he must’ve. He’s drinking another beer. 

“Day drinking?” 

Stiles shrugs. “Isn’t that what summer’s for, dude? Oh, your phone rang but I don’t know your unlock code?” 

“Why would you know my code?” Stiles just gives him a look. Derek ignores it and checks his voicemail. It’s from his credit card’s fraud department. He sighs and calls them back. 

“ _How much_? … Amazon??? I haven’t … ” 

Stiles grabs the phone and Derek’s too surprised to stop him. Stiles finishes the call, approving all the charges, and hands him back the phone. Derek grabs his hand.

“What did you buy.” He sniffs Stiles’s wrist. Not drunk yet, but this beer should probably be his last. Stiles tugs his arm away. 

“What? Just sheets. Dishes. Pots and pans. Basic shit, dude.” 

“On _my_ card. Stiles!  You bought _hundreds_ of dollars of stuff _I don’t need_. On _my_ card. … You … you didn't even _ask_.” 

“I needed to ask?” 

“What?! _Yes_. … Why do you have my card number?” 

“You make me order pizza with it _all the time_.” Derek says nothing. “Derek … are you _for-real_ upset about this? I can’t tell if this is like an ‘Oh Stiles, you annoying little life-organizer I can’t live without’ or a ‘Grrrr. I’m gonna go punch a hole in something’ thing happening right now.” Derek glares at him.

“Ooooooookay …Shit. But … it's not like I'm buying diamonds and furs, dude. I'm setting up the pack house with shit we’ll need when people move in.” 

“ _Move in?!_ ” Derek screeches. 

“ … Or stay over … ” Stiles bites his lip like he’s just made a tactical error. “Fuck, Derek. You just bought us _beds_ and _night stands_ and _lamps_ and shit! You think we’re going to spend the next 5 years crashing at your cushy place twice a month and then going back to be lonely in our shitty-ass apartments the rest of the time? Don’t you want us here? I mean, why else …? I thought you eventually wanted … ah, _fuck_.” Stiles claws at his own face. Derek pulls his hand away before he draws blood. 

“Ok. Sit. Sit sit sit! Pack leader meeting right. now.” 

“ _Pack leader meeting?_ ” He takes away the beer while Stiles isn’t looking.

“Fuck you very much. We can argue about _that_ later.” Derek purses his lips. “Oh my _god_ , Derek. I can’t … This is just … I mean ... _FUCK_. If this isn't what you want, you have to … ”

Derek just stares at him. Stiles stares back. This is clearly going very well. “Shit, dude. I need to cancel the furniture before they put it on the truck. I’ll just … I dunno. Get inflatable beds for the sleepovers instead?” 

“Cancel? Why?”

Stiles lowers his voice and speaks slowly, like Derek’s a child. “Derek, it’s ridiculous to spend thousands of dollars to set up bedrooms for people who are never here.” Ok, that might be true. Maybe he was going a little overboard. “That’s pretty much what air mattresses were invented for. Or futons. But we’re _not_ getting futons. If I want to sleep on a crappy futon, I’ll crash a frat party.” 

“But … the furniture was _your idea_.”

“What? No. It was totally _your_ idea, Derek. Remember, you said I could stay whenever I wanted this summer. For, like, when I’m sexiled, I mean.” Derek nods. Wishes he could be drunk for this conversation too. 

“Ok. Good. So after that, _you_ said you needed guest rooms for the rest of the pack. And so we spent three hours picking out like a fucking houseful of furniture today. That is what happened. This was all you, dude.” Stiles smells happy and looks smug for a minute. Then it sours. 

“I thought that was ’cause  you wanted us to … or that you were ready for the whole real pack house thing at least ... Not for like a couple sleepovers a month. Like, making an actual home for the pack. I mean, it’s not like they’d _move in tomorrow_. We’re not even done with college. But, you know, giving them bedrooms is a big thing. It means they have a _home_ here. You do see it, right?” Stiles eyes him over the bottle. 

“ … No?” When did Stiles steal his beer back? 

“Derek!” He slams down the empty bottle. “ _What the fuck_ do you want this pack to be, man? _Where_ do you want this pack to be? Just … what do you even _want_ from ... us? … The … the pack, I mean. Because I thought we were headed … I thought you wanted to … ” Stiles pulls at his hair. “Fuck, dude. Just … tell me what you _waaaaaaant_ ,” he groans, dropping his head to his hands. 

“ … What I want about _what_?” 

Stiles closes his eyes. “I need a ... I’m just gonna go outside for a minute and get some air. I’ll, uh, be back in a few, ok?” 

“Ok?” 

Stiles shoves the empty beer bottle in his hand. At least Stiles can still walk straight. And it’s light out. He’ll probably make it back unharmed. Derek watches him go for a minute then turns away. Washes off the drop of beer that had dripped onto his hand. He collapses on the couch. 

The laptop is still open next to him. He looks at the Amazon order Stiles placed. Derek has an Amazon account now? Stiles _created an Amazon account_ for him. Of course he did. He throws the laptop back onto the couch when he hears a scream. It’s coming from the woods out past his backyard. No words, just screaming. On and on. Angry at first then just frustrated and now … sad? Shit.

But Stiles is calm when he comes back. Grim. Worried. Sad. But his voice is calm and his face is blank. And he’s getting another beer. This isn’t good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are ready for some angst ...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, ok, this is like a thought exercise? Like if you could have a wish or whatever, ok.” That doesn’t make sense, but Derek nods. “If it were all up to you--if you could just decide and the pack would just go along with it--what would this pack be like?”

“Sorry about that. Just needed to yell that out of my system. It’s all good now.” 

“What’s … Are you ok?” 

“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” Stiles fakes a smile. “So, uh, this conversation we’re about to have is gonna be not fun. At all. Sorry ’bout that. But, _oh my god_ Derek, this is so fucking important right now. Like maybe the most important thing that’s happened to the pack without personal injury and potential death involved? I’m … I swear I’m not even exaggerating. Fucking wish I were, man. You get that, right? That I wouldn’t make us do this if we could just keep avoiding it? Like, if it could wait?” He looks so earnest. Derek doesn’t know what’s happening. But if Stiles is actually _warning_ him, Derek definitely does not want to be here for this. No way to put whatever this is off without being a dick, though. So he just looks at Stiles. 

“So you’re gonna have to _talk_ , Derek. A lot. Right now. I mean, I guess we could do it tomorrow? But I’m gonna be kinda a wreck if we wait, probably. And I know it’s too soon for you. I know you’re not ready for this. I tried to wait. But I have to think of the whole pack, right?” 

Stiles thinks he’s putting the pack in danger? … Because of furniture? How can that … ? Derek definitely wants to wait. Forever, if possible. But Stiles smells like … _fuck_ , he smells nervous.

“So, ok, this is like a thought exercise? Like if you could have a wish or whatever, ok.” That doesn’t make sense, but Derek nods. “If it were all up to you--if you could just decide and the pack would just go along with it--what would this pack be like? The … the structure. And, um, how much time the pack would spend together. And the finances. And the living arrangements. And, like, how close would people be I guess emotionally or whatever. The whole … everything. The big picture.” 

 _What?_ “I don’t know, Stiles. I’ve never … it’s not up to _me_.” Stiles does not look convinced. “It’s not _just_ up to me.” Stiles nods, conceding the point. “And this pack is so different … It just sort of happened. To all of us. And now we’re here. It’s … what we have. What was handed to us. And I can’t just _decide_ how things will be.” 

“Ok, sure, you can’t decide _everything_. There are other autonomous beings involved. It’s good, actually, that you get that. That’s, you know, growth and shit. Good on you, man. But you have _a lot_ of control over how the pack develops … as a unit. You have to know that, dude. C’mon, you know that, right? _You’re the alpha_.” Derek ignores the fluttering in his chest at hearing Stiles say that. “You’re the … the center. You hold it all together. Or hold it at a distance.” 

That doesn’t make sense. Can that be true? “How?” 

“So this is big shit, dude. You ok talking about it now? Because, actually, maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we can leave things alone for now. Until you’re ready. That’s … that could be fine. I could make it work. I just need to cancel all the furniture and the pack won’t even know and everything can just stay the same for a while. Until you’re ready.” 

“Ready for what? And what about you not being able to sleep tonight?” 

“Pleeeeeeease. That’s not much different than usual. It’s _fine_. Sorry, dude. I might be _a little_ melodramatic when I drink. _It’s fine._ ” 

“ _Lie_.” Stiles scowls at him and goes for another beer. “Stiles,” he sighs. “… I don’t know how to ... I don’t even … How would I change it? How can I even know what’s _possible?_ ” 

“Yeah, ok. I see your point.” Stiles points at him. Derek grabs his hand. “Ok. So, you know that the pack has been getting more cohesive lately, right? They’re fighting better as a team. They’re all huggy and shit. They’re just … closer. You see that, right?” Derek nods. “Is that good? Are you happy about that?” Derek frowns but nods. 

“I know they’re not the kind of pack you grew up with. They’re not your, um, original family, original pack. And if a bunch of _spectacularly shitty_ things hadn’t happened, maybe you wouldn’t even have met us. Or wanted to know us if we did meet.” Derek frowns. He wants his family back. Always. But he’s can’t imagine not knowing Stiles anymore. 

“If things were different, _we wouldn’t be your pack_.” Derek frowns again. “So, you know … It’s important to think about … And, ok, we’re kind of your default family now, right? But, dude, _you’re not actually stuck with us_. You, uh, _you don’t have to keep us_.” 

“What?!” He drops Stiles’s hand. Stiles frowns at his empty hand. 

“Look, it’s … you need to know it’s an _option,_ dude. Because you need to decide. You need to figure out if you even want this pack or not. Figuring out what the pack can be doesn’t really matter if you don’t fucking want the pack at all.” 

“Stiles. I’m the alpha. They’re my pack. That’s not a question.” 

“Yeah, but sometimes you treat the pack like a … a nuisance. A duty. Like you owe them because you turned them. ... Or like they owe you for giving them ‘the gift.’ Everyone’s free to go, man. Including you. _They_ choose to stay with you. What do _you_ choose?” The question doesn’t even make sense. 

“Look, I don’t know if you see it, but people are actually in a decent place right now. They’re … stable. Things are ok. The betas are actually pretty solid. I think they’d stick together even without you. Even if they didn’t join another pack, they wouldn’t be omegas. They’d be ok. Not as good, but ok.” That’s comforting. He wants them to be ok if something happens to him. He wonders who’d become alpha. Scott probably. But maybe Boyd. He’d pick Boyd if he could. 

“So ... _you don’t have to keep them_. You could sell the house and move away. Or stay and not be in a pack with them, I guess. … That would be harder, though, because you’d still get sucked into _fights_ and stuff. And, dude, it would be shitty if you were here but not _here_. … Last week was hard, man. I got halfway here a couple times before I remembered not to.” Stiles frowns and starts peeling off the beer label. 

“I mean, in a way this is a choice you already make unconsciously every day. And, sure, the pack didn’t happen the way anyone would've ideally chosen. But, dude, if you’re unhappy with the way things are now, _you can change it_. You can have your own life. You … ” Stiles sighs. “You deserve to be _happy_ , Derek.” He mumbles, “Even if it’s not with us.” He downs half a beer. 

“I’m not going to abandon them. This is ridiculous, Stiles.” 

“But what do you _want_?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave them. God.” 

“Oh. Ok. Good. … So that’s an ok starting place. Um, are you cool with who’s in the pack? You like everyone? No one you’d, uh, want to kick out? I mean, I think they might be an all or nothing kind of thing. The trio anyway. But it’s still worth thinking about. Do you want all of them in the pack? Boyd? Isaac? Erica? _Scott_? Um … me?” 

“ _Stiles_.” 

“Seriously, dude. This isn’t shit I can decide for you.”

“Stiles. Of course … You can’t think … _Really???_ ” 

Stiles grimaces at his beer, empties it. “I, uh ... I think I need you to actually say this one out loud, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think maybe [entanglednow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow) wrote the first fic I ever read? Some Destiel thing, I’m sure. Anyway, I love everything they write. And this Sterek story by them is a classic. If you haven’t read it, you really should: [By Any Other Name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/566258).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles. This is our pack. I can’t make these decisions alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there, y’all.

“Don’t be stupid. _Stiles_. You’re my pack. You’re _not even a wolf,_ but you’re my pack. Maybe more than any of them. You’re … We don’t have a traditional pack. No formal structure. But you … you’re the one ... You _know_ I can’t do this without you. God! A week and already it's falling apart.” 

“ _You could’ve done something about that_ , dude. That wasn’t ’cause _I_ was gone. It’s ’cause _you_ shut ’em out.” Stiles points the neck of another beer bottle at him. The movement is a bit unsteady. “ _Tha’s_ why it was a shitty week. You were _mad_ and you wouldn’t _talk_ to anyone about it. Not even me.” He frowns. “They prob’ly thought they were _helping_ you by not saying anything. ’Cause ... ’cause you don’t talk to ’em like this. Ever. They don’t _know_. They don’t _know_ this Derek. The squishy Derek. All you had to do was tell ’em they didn’t have to leave after practice. Tell ’em they could just _hang out_. Like they used to. People were in and outta here _all the time_ before.” 

“Yeah, when you were here.”

“Not about me, dude. Just … fuck … tell ’em they can _talk to you_ an’ shit. Even when you’re mad. If I’d stayed away longer, you’da figured it out. Hell, Scott woulda yelled at you _eventually_. And Boyd woulda stepped in to help if he thought you’d let ’im. Another week and he’da prob’ly stepped in even without permission.” 

“Maybe. It’s harder. You … you’re just always … it’s easy.” 

“Duuuuuuude, didya just call me _easy_? I mean, you’re not wroooooong.” Stiles winks at him. Like it’s normal to flirt while they talk about their pack falling apart. 

“Stiles. I can’t make these decisions alone.” 

“ … So, what ...  _all_ of us get together an’ talk? I mean, that'd be great. Suuuuuure. But no ’cause I’d be worried ’bout invasion of the bodysnatchers an’ shit ’cause, seriously, _never_. But also I think you needta figure out what _you_ want first. If we had this mythical pack meeting an’ asked everyone what they wanted an’ they wanted rainbows an’ puppies an’ you wanted, like, obedient soldiers or something, that'd not turn out well, yaknow.” 

“No. _You and me_. We lead. We decide. Isn’t that what you called us? _Pack leaders_?” Derek can barely speak above a whisper now. “What do _you_ want? What can _we_ have with this pack, Stiles?” 

“Derek ... I can, yeah, I mean ... I see it aaaaaall, dude. I _totally_ have that mental picture. An’ I’m pretty sure how ta get us there. It’s, yaknow, the psychology of groups an’ shit. Interpersonal dynamics. Whatever. I got that shit _covered_. But you can’t let me keep steamrollin’ you with all this. ’Cause if it’s more than you’re ready for an’ you _freak out_ , that’s gonna screw up the pack for a long time. That would take a _long time_ to unfuck. So, I dunno. I think you need ta figure out what you want an’, uh, then we can, like ... compare?” 

“Stiles, I was a _kid._ In a family pack. Then my sister and I were on the run just the two of us. Then Peter. And now there’s _this_. I don’t even know how to imagine this on my own. Just help me. _Please_.” 

Stiles’s eyes are a bit unfocused as he studies Derek’s face. He has no idea what Stiles is looking for. What he sees, if anything. He usually sees too much. But right now, who knows? 

“’Kay, Derek, it’s like this: You an’ I … we don’ have much of our original packs left. Cora’s wherever an’ may never come back. Too soon ta tell. Sorry. An' Peter'll _never_ be in my fucking pack, dude. I jus’ can’t. Scott can’t. Lydia _definitely_ can’t. I mean, I know she’s not actual pack. But she still counts if we’re talkin’bout Peter. And … you _shouldn’t,_ dude. Really, Derek, he’s so fucking _bad_ for you.” Derek swallows hard but nods. 

“Me, I have Dad. An’ Scott an’, there _fore_ , M’lissa. We’re kinda _chosen family_. Well, M’lissa didn’t choose me, but she knows she’s stuck with me ’nyway ’causea Scott. I think she’s resigned herself ta that. Helps he moved out an’ I’m not there all the time. Absence makes the heart grow fonder an’ all that.” Derek blushes. At least Stiles isn’t looking at him. 

“What was I sayin? … Oh, so, ’fore all this _wolfy_ shit, that was my tiny little fam’ly. That’ll always be my fam’ly. But now I have this other pieced-together fam’ly, too. An’ I think ’sgood. I like it. I … it kinda hurts to think ’bout life without the pack. And the … others, pack friends. Whatever we’re callin’em. This is my life. … Everythin’ else comes second ta protecting my family an’ the pack.” 

“Me too. I want to keep the pack. The others are … fine. They’re not pack. I wouldn’t mind if they never are. But maybe they could be. Eventually. I don’t know. ” 

“Oh. Ok. Good t’know. So, Jackson’s an unknown. Might never move back. An’ if he did, no predictin’ how he’d fit in. Tha’ mos’ly d’pends on Lydia ’n’ Danny now. An’ Scott. They still hada fucked-up rivalry when Jackson left. So, tha’s just a _question mark_ for me.” Derek nods. “’Kay. So tha’s … we pretty much agree on all. that. So … tha’s really good. Yeah.” 

Stiles pauses for a moment. “Right. We know we wanna keep the pack. But, like, _what kinda_   _pack_. Like, Satomi’s isn't much like a fam’ly. She’s like their _protector_? _Oh my god_ do they need a pr’tector. … We really needta help ’em get their shit together, dude. I know they’re pac’fists or whatever, but a little figh’ trainin’d go a loooooooong way.” Derek frowns. 

“Right. … Pro’lems for anotha day. Nnnnyway. You wanna _pack to protect_ or you wanna _fam’ly_? ’Cause I think Isaac wants a fam’ly again. I don’ think Scott has ’nough attention left after Allison to give it to ’im. Isaac’s still a little closed off, yaknow. Not sure he’s convinced yet anyone wants to really keep ’im. Or if he wants ta give ’em a chance to hurt ’im again. Maybe waitin’ ta see what happens after college? But whatever, we can fix it, I think. I think he’s the … When he settles in all the way, I think the whole pack’ll relax. If tha’s what ya want. If you want this pack to be faml’y, a forever fam’ly … If you offer ’em that, they’re gonna say yes. Even Scott.” 

“How do you _know that_? You _can’t_ know that.” 

“Srsly, Derek? I watch ’em. All tha time. I haveta watch ’em work t’gether so I can strategize. Tha’s kinda my _job_. You lead; I make sure they don’ fuck up. I plan; you attack.” 

“ ... I guess?”

“I see ’em gravitate ta each other when we watch movies. I see ’em always willin’ta come practice ’cause it means they're aparta somethin’ ’cause they don’ fit in a’home ’nymore. The ones who even, uh, still have a home. I see how much more relaaaaxed they are now … how much _happier_ they are hangin’ ou’ ou’sidea practice. Like the BBQ! We can do morea tha’. We _should_ do morea tha’. Jus’, yaknow, _tactically_. It’s th’smart thing tado, dude.” Derek nods. 

“Good. But ya needta figure out where you wan’ itta stop. ’Cause that’s upta _you_. Y’wan’ me tell ya what ya  _could_ have? D’ya really wanna know what I think this pack wants? What it needs? ’Cause ’m pre’y sure I c’n tell ya. … But I think maaaaaaaybe yur not ready. Not ready ta let it in or wha’ever. Maybeno’ even ready tahear it.” 

He grabs Stiles’s hand. “Tell me,” he whispers. 

Stiles squeezes his hand back. “If you let’em in, you could be their _big brother_. Boyd, Erica, Isaac. They'd move inta th’house with you. They wan’ a _home_. With their _alpha_.” 

“ … What about you?” he breathes out.

“Yeah, they love me too.” Stiles gives him a lazy, lopsided grin. He just raises an eyebrow back and waits. “Tha’s … _Derek_ … Tha’s _a lot_ for t’day ’lready. Too much, prolly.” 

Derek just stares at him. Stiles is probably right. He shouldn’t push. But now that this is all broken open, he can’t stop here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the awkward drunk spelling.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to break them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another chapter early. Sorry it has more awkward drunk spelling.

“Stiles … You can’t just ... I can’t decide ... not without knowing. About you. I can't ... with them ... without you here too.” 

“ _Fuuuuuuck_ , Derek.” Stiles gets up to start pacing, but he's not nearly sober enough for that to be safe. He pushes Stiles back down to sit, facing him. “If yur askin’ if I’ll move outta my ’partment? Leave it to Allisonan’Scott--who'll never move in here, byth’way, sorry … Yeah. Yeah, a’course. Course I’ll move in if ya ask. But only after you decide. Needa know if ya want th’others ta live here, too.” Derek frowns. 

“Look, if ya wan’ me here withou’em … ” Stiles rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, ’kay. We c’n make it work, prolly. I don’ think they expect ya to let ’em move in right now ’nyway. But if there're all these guest rooms ’n’ I just move inta one, tha’ might build up their _hopes_. I won’ let you stomp on that. Won’ let you acciden’lly break the pack by makin’ it look like th’ human’s more impor’an’ to th’ pack than they are. Can’ let you make ’em think you want ’em then reject ’em. Tha’s shitty, dude. Don’ be shitty to yur pack. An’ ’s’too hard ... to bring ’em back from that, yaknow. Like I’m good at fixin’ shit, but c’mon, yaknow.” 

“I don’t want to break them. Of course I don't.” 

“I know. I know. So I cancel th’ furn’ture. ’Cause if they start stayin’ over, pretty sure they’ll end up livin’ here full-time in like 3 months w’thout ’nyone actu’lly talkin’ ‘bout or realizin’ i’s happ’nin’. I can’ let that happ’n if yur gonna regret it or resent ’em. So, if yathink you’ll nev’r get there, nev’r be ready for _tha’ kinda pack_ , jus’ don’ fuckin’ set up all th’ gues’ rooms. Oh, or jus’ have like _one_ gues’ room, maybe. Alla us can use it sometimes, ’cluding me. That’a make it clear there’s a limit on how close you’ll let ’em get. Ya can’ give ’em rooms then shut ’em out. So, yeah, maybe one gues’ room ’sgood fer now.” 

“You’d move in with me? If I could ... If I could, you'd move in? Is that what you _want_?” 

Stiles looks at him a moment. Gets up, stumbles to the kitchen. Comes back with another beer. Laughs, but it sounds a little sad. “Fuck, Derek. What I wan’ is … compl’cated, ’kay? Big. Meeeeeeeessy. _Not_ wha’ we’re discussin’ today. Tha’s too much right now, dude. I fuckin’ _can’t_ , ’kay? Not when I'm shitty-ass drunk. An’ you ... yeah, you  _def’nit’ly can’t_ righ’ now, Derek. Ya think ya do, but you don’, man. Not like this.” Derek wishes he knew what that meant. 

“But, hey, you bought new couches! So I c’n still crash on yur couch when I need a break from Sco’n’Allison. I’ll def’ni’ely take ya up on that. If tha’s still ’kay.” 

“ _Yes_. You can always be here, Stiles. And you don’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

He sees Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and turn away for a few breaths. “Right, so, decide ’bout th’ furn’ture. Then I think we’re done talkin’, ’kay? So. done. talkin’. … ’m gonna tell Sco’ ta keep th’ pack away ’gain t’morrow. He c’n do a movie thing with’em.” 

He stares at his hands, embarrassed not to have a better answer for Stiles. “I don’t know what to do. About the furniture.” 

“Tha’s a kinda answer, though, dude.” Stiles pats his hand and gives a halfhearted smile.“Hey, ’m hungry ’gain. Heat us up leftovers while I tryta cancel shit. It ok to keep th’ other stuff? Towels an’ bathroom stuff yur stuck with. But, uh, kitchen stuff? We c’ld have pack dinners here. Take turns cookin’. It’d be really good fer us, I think. An’  _nonviolent._  Aaaaaaalways a plus. So, I think we sh’ld keep it … if tha’s ok.” Derek squeezes his shoulders as he heads to the kitchen. 

“Derek! Takin’ tha’ as permission ta do _wha’ever th’ fuck I wan’!_ Or yur gonna haveta use yur words!” He just flips Stiles off and makes their plates. Stiles starts snoring before he gets around to calling. Derek wakes him with a gentle squeeze to his arms.

“Wha’? ... Smell’ good. ... Than’s, dude.” They eat in silence.

Derek’s wiped out. Stiles was right, that conversation was a lot. And now he has a full belly. And Stiles is here, warm against him. Stiles looks about to fall asleep again. His slow, steady breathing is lulling Derek to sleep too. 

“My god. I just wanna take the longes’ nap ev’r. Like a nap an’ then n’nother nap n’then a full nigh’ sleep. Wish tha new couches were heeeeeeere ’lready. I can’ drive back.” 

“ _Obviously_. Stay. Take a nap. In the bed.” He hears Stiles’s pulse speed. Wonders if he fucked up. “ … I’m just going to stay out here for a while. Think about pack stuff, like you said. I'll take care of the furniture. Go sleep.” 

Stiles looks at his feet but nods. And his pulse settles. “’Kay. Ya sure? Wake me if you wanna talk.” He runs a hand down Stiles’s arm and squeezes his hand, brings it to his face to nuzzle against it. Stiles gives him a sleepy smile and pats him on his head on the way out.

Derek replays the conversation over and over. He thinks he knows what Stiles wants. He wonders if what he can give Stiles will be close enough. He tries to think about more. It makes him lightheaded. He thinks about the rest of the pack instead. What he can give _them_.

Two hours later he crawls into bed. As he wraps himself around Stiles, he tries not to worry about more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god Stiles went to take a nap. The drunk spelling is over!
> 
> Also, I'm only one chapter ahead on my writing right now, so things might slow down after that. Aaaaaand, we still haven't made it to the fucking reveal yet. Oy! But drunk Stiles _got some shit done,_ so we're so much closer than we were. I've given up taking guesses at which chapter that will be. I just want to hand it to you, but I need to drag Derek and Stiles there first. I promise, it is at least as frustrating to me as it is for you.
> 
> One more thing: I'm nearing 200 subscribers for this fic(!), which just blows my frakking* mind. Thank you. It's ... I can't even think about that and be coherent because that's beyond amazing. _Anyway,_ I feel like I should do something special when I hit that number. So, maybe people can request things they want to see in the fic and I'll do my best to write (at least) one of them in? What slice of pack life or Sterek life do you want to see that I haven't covered yet? (But, don't say sex, y'all. Seriously.)
> 
> * "Frak" is from the _Battlestar Galactica_ reboot tv series. If you haven't watched it, you really should. They also use the word in _Veronica Mars_ as a nod to BSG, so you know it's good!
> 
> (Wow, I even feel the need to add notes to explain my notes. I am so ridiculous. Thanks for putting up with me.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek, when I ruin your sheets, it’s not gonna be because I’m _eating toast in bed._ ”

He wakes up warm and content, except for the phone ringing. “Make it stop,” he growls.

“Mmff. Move. Move, dude. I can’t reach it from underneath you.” Stiles pushes him off, grabs the phone.

“What?” He can hear the Sheriff’s voice but he’s not awake enough to bother picking out the words. Stiles smiles smugly at where their legs are still tangled together. “Sorry, dad. Forgot we were supposed to grab breakfast before your shift. There was some ... pack stuff. Can we do lunch tomorrow instead?” He smiles blearily. “Thanks, pops. Be safe!”

Stiles looks at him and sets the phone down. Puts a tentative hand on Derek’s bare chest and watches for his reaction. He pulls Stiles in tight against his side, burying his face in Stiles’s hair. He feels the sigh Stiles lets out ruffle his chest hair and then long fingers start to trace patterns on his arm.

“Tickles.”

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbles and stops.

“No. It’s nice. … You don’t have to stop.” Stiles looks up at him. Blushes and smiles, burying his face in Derek’s chest with a laugh. He runs a hand up and down Stiles’s back. They stay like that for a long time. Quiet and warm. Happy. Stiles laughs when Derek sniffs at his hair and hugs Stiles tighter, only letting him loose when Stiles’s stomach growls.

“Your turn to cook, Derek,” he mumbles, looking at him uncertainly. Maybe Stiles doesn’t want to break the spell by getting out of bed either? “No cold Chinese leftovers, either. _Cook_ me something.”

“Yes, dear,” he whispers in Stiles’s ear. Stiles’s gasp turns into choked laughter. Derek rolls his eyes, pulling himself away to sit on the edge of the bed and mussing Stiles’s hair. “Hey. You ok? Headache or anything?”

Stiles snaps out of it. “Nah. That was nothing compared to freshman year. Some water, some coffee, some food and I’ll be all set. Go! Feed me.” Stiles shoots him a wicked grin. “Get in the kitchen and make me some pie!* … Shit, now I _actually_ want pie for breakfast--you know I do. Maybe a _whole_ pie, even. … Breakfast pie ... quiche is _totally_ the breakfast version of pie, right? Can you make me a quiche? Shit, no. You have like one frying pan right now and that’s it.”

Derek laughs, relaxing. “I’ll make you cereal and toast. With coffee and water. Juice even, if you want.”

“Mmmmmm. Bringing me breakfast in bed before you kick me out?”

“No food in bed. You’ll ruin the sheets.”

“I’m very disappointed in the service at this B&B. The guy who runs it is _such_ a grumpy old man. No hospitality at all!” He throws the blanket up over Stiles’s head and walks out. As he heads to the kitchen, Stiles yells after him, “When I ruin your sheets, Derek, it’s not gonna be because I’m _eating toast in bed_.”

At least he’s out of the room so Stiles can't see his face. He’s fine again by the time Stiles follows him into the kitchen.

“So Amazon doesn’t come ’til tomorrow. But I _do_ want dibs on trying out your new couch before anyone else does. Movie night with the furrballs tonight or wait for tomorrow? Need some space first?”

“Yeah, I just want one more night of peace. Go pick a _Drunk History_ to watch while we eat.” Stiles run a hand down his bare arm on his way out.

“Oh, no way. Holy shit. Dinosaur bone war, Derek!”**

“No idea what that means. It’s terrifying you’re legally allowed to own firearms.”

“Shut up; you love me.”

Derek clears his throat. “Here. Eat.”

After, they take the dishes to the kitchen. Stiles gives him a long look. “How attached are you to these dishes?”

“I’m not?”

“They’re so busted. And you’re getting a whole new set tomorrow.”

“ … And?”

“ _And_ we could just _throw these out_ and not have to wash them!”

“We might need them before then. I do plan to eat dinner and breakfast and maybe even lunch tomorrow before the delivery. _Wash_.”

Stiles pouts. “Fiiiiiine. I still kind of want pie, though.”

“We can get some later.”

“Yeah?” His breath catches because Stiles’s grin is blinding. He can’t say anything. Just pulls Stiles into a hug.

“Mmmm. Best morning ever, dude.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks so quietly. Derek just tugs him back to the couch, sits down sideways, pulling Stiles down to sit between his legs and lean back against his chest.

Stiles rests his head back on Derek’s shoulder, looks up at him. “Derek, you do realize you own a house. With matching dishes and cookware and couches that haven't been previously owned and shit on the way. Like an actual respectable person. You should learn to cook real food, probably.”

“I know how to cook.”

“Not just grilling shit or making toast.”

“I know how.”

“WHAT.”

“What what? I can cook. Not fancy. And I can’t bake at all. But I can cook real food.”

“I can bake. If I don’t, like, eat all the batter first.”

“We’re a good team then,” he mumbles. Stiles squeezes his leg.

“How does it feel to be a real adult? Are you’re gonna get a job when school starts back? Is Derek Hale going to become an upstanding citizen of Beacon Hills? … Are you a registered _voter_ , Derek?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Hey, you gonna cook me dinner tonight? I can make brownies or something. I’m too lazy for pie today unless it’s store-bought. Either way, we have to go grocery shopping.”

“If you want. But we have to be here for the couches.”

“Right. What do you want to do while we wait?”

“Read some?”

“I dunno. I’m a little restless. Maybe I should go ahead and shop? You wanna give me a list or come with?”

“Couches, Stiles.”

“Right. You totally just said that. So, list?”

“What do you want me to cook?” He wraps his arms around Stiles, tugging back tight against his chest.

Stiles gasps. “What are my options?”

He whispers against Stiles’s ear, making him shiver. “ … Stuffed shells … grilled steak … omelettes … stir fry … chili … buffalo chicken.”

Stiles groans, nuzzling the arms wrapped around him. “I want all those things. Can I have all those things?”

“Yes. But not all at the same time.” 

Stiles half-turns to look at him. His lips are parted, slick and shiny. Derek doesn’t lean in to close the gap, though. Just runs his nose down Stiles’s ear and hums, happy. Stiles sighs and rests his head back on Derek’s chest. 

“Should I, uh, just buy stuff for all those things?” Stiles whispers. “I mean, we have to eat lunch and dinner every day. That’s only 3 days of meals. Well, I’m having lunch with Dad tomorrow. Oh, we should do chili for the pack tomorrow night! OMG, chili pie. YES.”

“Chili pie?”

“Seriously? How … ? Dude, it’s the best thing. Chili with Fritos and cheese. Mmmmm. I’m getting hungry again. Give me the list so I can go. C’mon.”

“I’ve always admired your immense patience. Go, idiot. I’ll email it to you.” Stiles just grins at him and bounces away, saying over his shoulder that he’ll stop by and take the Sheriff some lunch before going to the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _South Park_ : [youtube.com/watch?v=rmwYi7R2G7Q](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmwYi7R2G7Q)
> 
> ** It's not as awesome as the [Harriet Tubman episode](http://www.cc.com/video-clips/2qw47o/drunk-history-harriet-tubman--superspy), but the [_Drunk History_ of the dinosaur bone war](http://www.cc.com/video-clips/ycrm3f/drunk-history-the-bone-wars) was pretty amazing.
> 
> (Are y'all kidding me?! This afternoon, I mentioned celebrating when we get to 200 subscribers, thinking it might be in a week or more ... and then we hit that number a couple hours later?! Is this real life? So, alright, here we go: Drop a comment with a situation you want me to write a chapter about and I'll work on one--or more--ASAP. If that's too much pressure, or if you're feeling particularly mischievous, drop me one word to try to write into a scene. I'll do as many of them as I can figure out how to.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is, um, big. A big surprise. I … ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. This is the last chapter I have written right now (well, except for THE chapter, but we're not there yet). I have notes for a bunch of little things. I just don't know if I'll have a new chapter ready to post tomorrow. I'll try!

He looks up a few recipes and sends Stiles the grocery list. While he’s on Stiles’s laptop, he swallows down his nerves and looks at the items Stiles saved in Derek’s new Amazon account. He gets bored scrolling through everything, though. Do they really need _all_ this shit? He just sighs and moves it all to his cart. Pays extra for next-day delivery so they can set everything up all at once tomorrow. 

It’s all a bit overwhelming, thinking about turning this into a real pack house that _other people might live with him in_. He just needs to put it out of his mind for a while. So he does a punishing workout. And gives in and jerks off quickly in the shower; it’s been a while. He sighs as he watches it wash down the drain. 

Stiles gets back as the furniture delivery truck pulls away. Caresses the top of the new couches with his long fingers. “Awesome. And you got them to haul the old one away?”

He nods, grabs Stiles’s arm before he can throw himself down to try one of them out. He gets a questioning look but just pulls Stiles to the room next to his. It has a bed now. He had even put the spare sheets on it. There’s no pillows or blankets for it yet, and the mattress in the other room is bare, but he takes Stiles to see it anyway. Shows Stiles that he left the dressers with the pack’s clothes in the original room. The pack can still get to the their clothes without finding out about the two new bedrooms. He doesn’t say any of this out loud. Figures Stiles will hear the words he can’t quite pull together.

Stiles looks like he’s trying to blink away tears. He grabs Stiles’s hand, threads their fingers together, squeezes. The look on Stiles’s face makes his chest ache. He wants … he doesn’t know what exactly. More, though. He wants more. But not today.

“This is, um, big. A big surprise. I … ”

“It’s not … Don’t tell them yet. _Please_. But it’s … here. For later.”

Stiles brings their entwined hands up to his face, nuzzles into Derek’s hand for a minute before lowering them. He runs his other hand through Stiles’s hair, rubs their cheeks together. 

“Ow, dude. Holy fuck, that totally looks way better than it feels.”

He smooths a hand across Stiles’s cheek in apology, other thumb sweeping across the back of Stiles’s hand. Stiles reaches up the back of Derek’s shirt to rub a hand there softly. They just lean against each other and breathe that way for a while.

“This is … good. It’s _good_ , Derek. … It’s here. When you’re ready. We don’t have to rush anything. But this is good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So good, Derek.” 

His breath hitches, throat feeling tight. “You hungry?”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, _always_. I’m actually starving right now. I mean, delivering lunch to Dad and then food shopping. It was torture not buying all the good stuff that wasn’t on the list. Their pie looked meh, though. So we need to get some from a real bakery. Oh shit, we need to get the groceries into the fridge.”

“Omelette for lunch? Anything you don’t want in it?”

“Dude, you know I’ll eat anything. Alright. Chop, chop! You cook food; I’ll put away the other ... food.”

“After patience, I think a wide vocabulary is your biggest strength.” 

“Fuck you, dude.” Stiles bumps his shoulder and grins at him on the way to the kitchen. 

Stiles stays in his orbit as they move around the kitchen. Puts a hand on his lower back when reaching over him for something, brushing hands as he passes. Too much and not enough. It’ll hurt when he goes home tonight. 

They watch another _Drunk History_ while they eat on the new couch. They don’t really have a choice. There’s no kitchen table to eat at. Maybe they’ll have to shop for that next.

Stiles decides they need to spend the rest of the day making sure the couches will still be comfortable after an all-day movie marathon. They read for a while then watch random things that catch Stiles’s eye. They only break for dinner. He grills chicken outside to put on their salads. After they eat, he cuts the rest up and makes chicken salad they can have for lunch tomorrow. Stiles makes some fruit salad to go with it. Apparently Stiles picked up some plastic containers on his way home to store them in. On his way back to the _house_ , that is. 

Stiles says they need a final movie before he heads out. Declares it “a tragedy that must be remedied immediately” when he finds out Derek hasn’t seen the _Star Wars_ trilogy since he was a kid. Then he spends half an hour complaining about the prequels.

“Enough! I promise we never have to watch those, ok. But if we watch _Star Wars_ now, I’m not watching it again at pack movie night.” 

“Yeah? You gonna pout in the kitchen while we watch without you? That’s not very mature for an aaaaaaalpha.”

“Asshole. I’m just saying we could _watch something else tonight_. Then watch _Star Wars_ with the pack.” 

“Maybe. You have a suggestion?” Derek shakes his head. “Of course you don't. ... Fine. ... How about _Man on Wire_?* Then we can see the Joseph Gordon-Levitt** movie about it soon.”*** It’s perfect, of course. Sometimes it hurts how well Stiles knows him. 

When the documentary is over, Stiles rubs sleepily at his eyes and starts packing up slowly.

“You can stay if you want. You have to help me with all that Amazon crap you ordered tomorrow anyway.” 

“You’re not sick of me yet, dude?” He just gives Stiles a look. Stiles ducks his head and laughs. “Yeah, ok. I can stay and finish testing the couch, I guess. You know, make sure it’s comfortable enough to sleep on when I get sexiled.” 

“Or you could try out the new bed.” 

“I ... I could try out the new bed. But, uh … If I do that, man, it’s gonna be hard for me to go back to my shitty mattress at home tomorrow.” He just gives Stiles a look. “C’mon, I should try this out anyway, in case anyone else wants to crash on the couch in the future, too.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“Tooooootally sure, dude. Still more comfortable than my bed, I bet.” 

In the middle of the night, Stiles gets cold under only a sheet. Says quietly, “Derek, you up? I’m fucking freezing my nuts off in here and there’s no spare blankets yet. I’m coming in there, so make yourself decent.” Of course Derek hears him. Heard as soon as his heartbeat changed when he woke up. It’s been _very_ distracting having Stiles in the next room. Maybe offering him a room in the house wasn't the best idea.

The bed dips down as Stiles crawls in with him. Derek sighs, falling asleep quickly with his nose in Stiles’s hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [_Man on Wire_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1155592/)
> 
> ** [_10 Things I Hate About You_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0147800/) will probably always be my favorite JGL movie.
> 
> *** [_The Walk_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3488710/)
> 
> (You guys are giving me such fun ideas to try to incorporate into this story. Keep 'em coming, if you want!)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, one more morning like this and waking up in bed with you will officially be a pattern.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also just posted a one-off about Derek and Stiles making soup for the pack when they come home for winter break after their first semester at college. It’s not part of this story, but I think it has a pretty similar feel: [Love Is Good Soup](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5116100/chapters/11769965).

Derek wakes up earlier than usual. He’s groggy but happy. It takes him a second to realize he’s awake because he can hear a car pulling up. He jumps a little when he realizes it sounds like Erica’s. 

“Heeeeey,” Stiles says, rubbing his face on Derek’s chest in the most adorable way. Derek aches at the sweetness. Hates that they can’t just stay in bed like this all morning. “So, one more morning like this and waking up in bed with you will officially be a pattern.” 

“Oh no. The horror,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Get up. It’s your turn to make breakfast. Put some clothes on first.” 

“Yes, dear,” Stiles says, parroting his words. “Any food requests?” 

“Something you won’t burn.” 

“Egg sandwiches it is!” 

“Maybe just scramble the dozen instead. Erica’s coming up the drive.” 

“WHAT?! Fuck!” Stiles throws some clothes on. His shirt is inside out the first time. But he manages it after a minute of flailing. Derek gets dressed too and walks to the kitchen to start the coffee. Whatever’s going on, Stiles will definitely require caffeine. Stiles walks into the living room dragging a pillow and sheet. Derek raises an eyebrow at him when he dumps them on the couch. 

“What? You want her to find out I slept with you last night?” 

“You didn’t … That’s not … ” 

“Ok, sure. You try to explain that to her right now. And if she does believe you, the rest of the pack might take that as an invitation to crawl in bed with you whenever they want.” 

“NO.” 

“ _Exactly_. You’re welcome. Hey, are we doing chili and a movie with the pack tonight? It’s been forever since we’ve seen them. They’re probably gonna yell at us about it today.” 

“Sooner than you think,” he says, right before Erica bursts in with the entire pack right behind. 

“Dude, did you come here in a clown car or what?” Stiles barely gets the question out before Scott tackles him to the floor. “Love you too, dude. But why are you here? Is something wrong? It’s so early! I haven’t even had coffee yet.” 

Apparently they were worried Derek might have killed him and was impersonating him via text. Everyone punches him on the arm or hugs him or at least knocks shoulders with him. They just look at Derek without approaching. 

“It’s adorable that you think Derek could pull off imitating my mad texting skillz. He capitalizes and uses all the letters in words and punctuation and shit. But I’m super impressed--and grateful!--that you were worried enough to actually come out here and check on me. It’s good to know that you’ll save me from the big bad alpha. But, like, why are you _all_ here? This seems like a one-Scott job.”

“Stiles, it’s fine. It was a long time for them to be away from their alpha. It’s not good for the pack.” 

“Duh. That’s why we’re making chili and having movie night here tonight. Which we would have told you all. _After_ breakfast.” 

And that’s how Derek ends up making the pack french toast, with Stiles’s help. After breakfast, they go for a long run together, though Stiles stops and goes home after half a mile so the wolves don’t have to hold back anymore. 

When Derek gets home, Stiles has showered and changed and started unpacking a mountain of Amazon packages. The pack have a million questions, and they look really eager to jump on the new couches. But they’re all sweaty and disgusting, so that is not happening. 

He orders everyone to go home and not come back until 6. And tells them to bring the others. They grumble, but they go, leaving him and Stiles alone again. He’s definitely not ready to give up this kind of quiet time yet. Maybe not ever. 

He tries explaining that after his shower. “Stiles.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Stiles.” Derek put a hand on his arm to get his full attention. “I like being able to send them home.” 

“Yeah, excellent deployment of the red eyes and growly voice. Very macho.  … Ooooooh. Ok. Is that, uh, a final decision or just like for now and you’ll reconsider periodically to see if you still feel that way?” 

“I don’t know how I’ll feel in a year. Does anyone?” 

“Ok. Fair point. But it’s good that you’re leaving it, uh, open. … And thanks for telling me.” 

“I’m not done. … I want to offer them the bedrooms.” 

“ _Derek_. We talked about this, right? I mean, I _was_ totally shit-faced, but I think we talked about this? I remember talking about that.” 

“Just for weekends and holidays. Not a whole summer. Not moving in. And they don’t have to stay but … they can. If they want.”

Stiles looks at him so … he’s not even sure what that look is. Surprise. No, more than that. Happiness. And … hope. They smile at each other. 

And then Stiles kisses him. _Fuck_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s Netflix and chili pie night!”

It’s just a quick peck on the lips. He can tell that Stiles has no real intent behind it. Just a burst of happiness. For now. Derek swallows hard and slides his face down into Stiles’s shoulder. Rubs his face in the shirt collar for a second before an alarm goes off on Stiles’s phone and he pulls away, laughing. 

“Shit. Fuck. I, uh, I need to put together lunch for me and Dad and get going. I’ll make you a sandwich and leave it in the fridge?” 

“Thanks. I’ll eat it after I make chili.” 

“Right. It’s _Netflix and chil-_ i pie night! You need any help with that before I go?” 

“No, I’m good. You inviting your dad and Melissa over tonight?” 

“I can, yeah.” Stiles squeezes his hand on the way out. 

He chops vegetables and tries not to think about the kiss. He thinks about telling the pack about the guest rooms instead. It’s just replacing one panic with another. He’s not telling them tonight. Not with the others there. Tomorrow at practice, maybe. 

He throws everything in the pot and then wonders how to spend the rest of the afternoon. He settles on sketching out plans for a garden while he eats. Stiles keeps saying he needs a garden so he doesn’t have to beg from Deaton anymore. And digging it out and planting is something the pack can do as a group. Stiles keeps saying they don’t do enough nonviolent bonding. 

Shit, _violent_ bonding. They never actually talked about Stiles’s awful training ideas. He’s a little surprised Stiles hasn’t brought it up again. Because he realized how stupid the ideas are? Or because he’s handling Derek? … _Fuck_ , he is _not_ thinking about Stiles’s hands right now. 

He knows Stiles would never purposefully endanger the pack. Of course he knows that. … And they’re all adults. … Could he just let them decide for themselves? Or would that make him an irresponsible alpha? Or is he just being overprotective? They need to be able to handle themselves if he’s gone, right? So is it more irresponsible not to do it? 

Stiles may be impulsive in battle, but not when planning training. And he isn’t a very trusting person. Scott trusts anyone; Stiles trusts no one, almost. So … _maybe_. Maybe the humans can use the pack (minus Stiles) as target practice. But wolfsbane? That’s … can there really be any use to that? And there might be long-term danger from repeated exposure. Did Stiles even check into that? He’d have to talk to Deaton about that before he’ll even consider it. 

He doesn’t need to decide today. Today is a pack dinner and movie and that’s enough. … Maybe he’ll send the friends home early and tell them about the guest rooms? … He doesn’t need to decide that right now either. 

So he goes back to planning the garden. He hits a wall after a while, though. He needs Deaton’s input on the rest. That’s bound to be fun and illuminating. Maybe there’s someone else he can ask? Satomi, maybe. 

He checks on the chili and moves some into a smaller pot, enough for maybe four bowls. The Sheriff has acid reflux, and he wants to be able to send some home with him for tomorrow. Then he adds a ton more tomatoes and cayenne to the larger pot. And that’s it. 

He sits outside for a while with his sketchbook, enjoying the peace. There won’t be any later. It would be nice if they could eat out here tonight, but there’s no table or chairs. There’s no dining table inside either, but at least there are couches. And a coffee table. And even large cushions for the floor, now. Those were a pretty good idea. 

He sketches a set of large picnic tables and benches for the yard. Building them is another thing the pack can do together. It may end up accidentally bloody. But it will be nonviolent at least. Maybe even the humans can help. It would be a chance to get to know them better. He knows he really should make the effort. If he’s going to figure out how trustworthy they are, he can’t leave that all to Stiles. 

 _Stiles_. What is he going to do about Stiles? 

As if summoned by Derek’s thoughts, Stiles is pulling up right now. He’s talking … to himself? No, on the phone with someone. 

“Look, man. I’m just saying that you’re wasting an amazing opportunity here. … Seriously, Deaton’s going away for that Druid thing next week and leaving you in charge. I may never forgive you if you don’t let us come play kitten poker.* … But it would be epic, Scotty! … C’mon, dude. We’re still in college! NOW is the time to do dumb shit, while we can still get away with it. … Ok, but the kittens will love all the attention. Just think about it. Like, _one hand_ of poker, ok?” 

Stiles wanders in and follows his nose straight to the stove. Lifts the lid from the big pot. He moans as he tastes the chili. “ … Shut up, dude. I just tried this chili. It’s amaaaaaaaazing. … _Of course_ we have Fritos. But it’s really good by itself too. … I know, right? I can’t believe he can actually cook! Mind blown! … Oh, shut up! We’re not talking about that, asshole. … We’re not talking about that either! I’m hanging up now. You’re on probation as best friend. … Whatever. Hey, you invited your mom tonight, right? … Well, I can box some up for her then. … Yeah, tell her to swing by on the way to work. … Yeah, ok. See you around 6. … THINK ABOUT THE KITTENS!” 

Derek clears his throat and Stiles jumps half a foot. “The fuck! You trying to kill me??? Whatever, you’re forgiven. Because this chili is fucking amazing. But damn, it’s spicy. Dad says he’ll be here tonight, but he can’t eat this. I forgot to mention that this morning. Fuck. Um ... I’ll think of something.” Derek just waits. “Hey, what’s in this pot? … Oh my god, seriously?!” 

Stiles throws himself at Derek and kisses him on the cheek then pulls back and grabs his face in both hands, looking him in the eye. “You are the best alpha. Holy fuck. I can’t even … My _dad_ , dude. You … ” Stiles lets out an uneven breath and shakes his head. He drags his hands down Derek’s cheeks and neck to his shoulders, giving him a crooked smile. 

He just stands there, a bit stunned by the compliment. It was nothing. A throw-away comment. It shouldn’t mean so much that Stiles said it. That it sounded like Stiles wasn’t lying. But an exaggeration like that wouldn’t sound like a lie anyway, right? He needs to focus on something else. 

“What’s in the bags?” 

“PIE! Or, like, pie _s_ , really. I got six. I hope it’s enough. I’m hiding one in the cupboard for tomorrow.” Stiles winks at him. 

“What’s happening tomorrow?” 

“Epic leftovers for lunch. Chili’s always better the second day. But there’s never leftover pie.” 

“Ok.” 

“Ok? I think you mean _brilliant_. Although I suppose they might sniff it out. Where else can I put it?” 

“I’m glad you’re using all your brainpower for hoarding food.” 

“That’s not _all_ I’ve been thinking about. Food is just a background process. Doesn’t take any significant CPU time, dude. Unless I’m baking. I’ll have to make brownies for the next pack dinner … ” Before he can continue that thought, he spots Derek’s sketchbook. 

“What’s that? You been drawing? You can _draw_? Can I look?” 

“I will show you one thing. Don’t touch the fucking book. I’m serious, Stiles. This is mine. It’s _private_. You understand?” 

“Whoa, dude. Fine. Hands off. _I promise_. Ok?” 

He slides it over, showing Stiles the sketches for the picnic tables and chairs. 

“This is … ” Stiles lets out a whoosh of breath. “Are you gonna _make_ these?” 

“We are. The pack.” Stiles just grins at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Kitten poker is from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. [Check out the gifs.](http://buffyann23.tumblr.com/post/127839220319/favorite-tv-shows-buffy-the-vampire-slayer-06x03)
> 
>  


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The next thing he knows, he’s waking up with the Sheriff standing over him.”

“Dude, after you finish the tables and chairs, you totally have to make me a giant Jenga* like they have at the barcade.** Giant Jenga’s awesome.”

“Maybe.” 

“What? Why not? Is it too _fun_ or something?” 

“It’s loud.” 

“What, really? … Are you … I honestly can’t tell if you’re shitting me right now.” 

“Can we talk about it later? And not mention it to the pack?” 

“ … I guess. Um, are you ok, dude? ’Cause I feel like we went from great chili and awesome table designs to, like, the kids are too damn loud and don’t talk to the kids behind my back.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Ok. But what’s going on, Derek?” 

“Nothing … I don’t know. I just … It’s all … ” 

“Ok, ok. Shhhhhh. Is there anything useful you need to do right now?” 

“No?” 

“Ok. Good. Grab a book.” 

“What?” 

“We’re gonna sit quietly and read until people get here.” 

“Ok.” 

“Ok.”

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up with the Sheriff standing over him. _Shit_. Somehow Stiles hasn’t woken up yet. He closes his eyes for a second and then sits up. He stands. It’s less intimidating without the Sheriff literally looking down at him. 

“Sir. Glad you could join us tonight.” He gets only a raised eyebrow in response. “You want to wake him?” That gets him a smile at least. 

The Sheriff clears his throat. Stiles jumps from a dead sleep, landing on the floor in a heap. 

“Dad! How’d you get in here? I mean hi. I mean what time is it? I mean … ” Stiles hangs his head for a second before pulling himself off the floor. “You’re early. Why are you early? You’re never early … Aaaaaaaaaaah. You got called in. That sucks. Ok, come on. I’ll pack up your dinner. Maybe you can drop Melissa’s off so she doesn’t have to drive all the way out here?” 

Derek leaves them to it. Goes to splash some water on his face. He’s not hiding. He’s giving them family time. Stiles comes to find him a few minutes later. 

“It’s safe to come back.” 

“What?” 

“ _Derek_.” 

“I woke up with the Sheriff, _your father_ , standing over me. My head was in your lap.”

“DUDE. How did you not wake up? How did you not hear him coming?!” 

“I would have heard him _knock_. How did he get in?” 

“I didn’t lock the door because we’re here and expecting guests. I left it unlocked like a civilized person who has an attack wolf to keep him safe.” The grin he gives Derek is ridiculous. 

Derek tries not to find it stupidly charming. “Back to the point, Stiles.” 

“What point?”

“What did your father say?”

“ … He didn’t say anything.” 

“Really?” 

“Really, Derek. He thought it was nice you made special chili just for him.” 

“Not _just_ for him. Boyd doesn’t like it spicy either.” 

“Well, that’s adorable. Anyway, I don’t think Dad was surprised. Or, at least, not surprised _about me_. Maybe he’s surprised about you. He didn’t really say anything though. His smile was a little smug, though. So, who knows?” 

Derek flushes and turns away for a second. 

“Hey, you want to talk about what was going on before the nap? Seriously, is everything ok?” 

He clenches his jaw for a second before the words come out. “I want to tell them tonight.” 

“Hey! That’s _awesome_. The pack is gonna be so fucking happy, dude. I promise. And … I can stay too sometimes, right?” 

“Stiles, do I need to tell you every day? You can stay over anytime you want. Every time you want.” 

Stiles mumbles, “Yeah, I might need you to say that every day for a while.”

“You’re _ridiculous_.” 

“Well, you’re _amazing_.” It makes Derek blush, which Stiles apparently thinks is hilarious.

“Ha ha. They’ll be here soon. Help me finish setting up.” 

“Yes, dear.” Stiles winks and follows him into the kitchen. Derek just hopes he won’t start saying it in front of the pack. He couldn’t stand for them to tease him about this.

 

***

 

Pack-plus dinner goes well. No one directly talks about why they’ve been away. And only touch on what they’ve done while they were apart. But conversation isn’t awkward. Everything is comfortable and fun. Loud. But good. 

He only has to intervene in a few arguments. Stiles refuses to give up on kitten poker. He spends fifteen minutes recruiting others to his cause. Scott is determined not to abuse the trust Deaton is showing him. Isaac agrees with Stiles that it’s stupid to waste this opportunity. But he’s always spent a lot of time helping out at the vet’s. 

Erica would rather play with puppies, but everyone agrees it’s an awful idea. Boyd is neutral, as usual. Allison and Danny think it sounds like fun, but they don’t care much either way. Lydia makes her opinion clear with two words: cat hair. This goes on and on for a while until Derek can’t take it anymore. 

He tenses, and it pulls Stiles’s attention to him. Stiles raises an eyebrow. He nods in reply and clears his throat. 

“Thanks for coming. I hope we’ll do this more. Saturday dinner and a movie here. All of us. If you want to bring anyone else, just talk to me … to us … all of us. That’s a decision we can make, uh, together.” 

Stiles takes over. “We thought we could all take turns shopping and cooking. Two or three people a week. Cook and bring it here or come here and cook. And I think I’ve convinced Derek to teach us how to cook some of his recipes if anyone wants to learn.” 

“By ‘convinced,’ Stiles means this is the first time he’s mentioned it.” Everyone laughs. 

“No, we totally had a conversation about that. … Or maybe that was just in my head? Whatever, it’s a great idea.” 

He rolls his eyes and nods at Stiles. Clears his throat. “We need tables so we can have dinner. Together. I thought maybe … if you’re interested … You can help. I drew out these plans. We can all do this together. Make tables. For outside.” He lets out a breath. 

Stiles translates for him. “Derek drew out like technical plans for some picnic tables and benches for outside so we have enough room when eeeeeeeeeeeveryone comes to dinner. We’re gonna build them as a pack activity. And you others too if you want to. Those of us who aren’t allowed to use sharp tools will help pick up the lumber and, like, weatherproof paint it after.” 

“Or cook,” Derek says. “We could start this weekend. Stiles can do assignments before the movie. If that’s ok … with everyone.” 

People seem excited enough. They eat and talk about different things they know how to cook or build. The house is full of people and noise and the smell of homemade food. Everything just feels _right_ again. 

Stiles squeezes his thigh under the table and gives him a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [Giant Jenga](http://community.homedepot.com/howto/DiscussionDetail/Building-a-Giant-Jenga-Game-9065000000008yO)
> 
> ** [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcade](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcade)
> 
>  
> 
> If you’re looking for something else to read, one of my favorite angsty fics is [Febricant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Febricant/pseuds/Febricant)’s [Radio Silence](http://archiveofourown.org/series/27639) series. Ouch. But so good.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re watching _Star Wars_ tonight. It’s the least Derek can do to thank Stiles.

After dinner, Derek pulls rank and says they’re watching _Star Wars_ tonight. It’s the least he can do to thank Stiles for giving him this. This night. He doesn’t actually say that, but Stiles clearly knows. 

Stiles is so excited he jumps into Derek’s arms. Well, after jumping on Scott’s back and cheering about it. He yells into Scott’s ear that he “can’t weasel out of it this time, sucker. Because our _alpha_ picked it.” 

Derek forces himself to stay calm. Stiles is _not_ allowed to know how saying that affects him. Stiles would not use that knowledge for good. Derek dumps Stiles in the middle of a couch and then sits in the corner. Stiles scoots up next to him and pulls Derek’s arm around him tight. 

Everyone else crowds on and around the couches. It’s cozy. Derek likes having everyone here, even the humans. And everyone else smells content, too. 

Even Lydia approves of their new purchases. Of the couches especially. She declares the dishes tacky but practical, given Stiles’s clumsiness. Stiles doesn’t even object. She calls the bathroom towels a travesty, though. Says they’re morbid. And if they were going to pick something to hide bloodstains, they might as well have really committed and just bought black. Navy would have been a much better choice, apparently.

Stiles shrugs it off, saying she’s welcome to decorate her house however she wants but “this is the pack house,” so her vote doesn’t count. No one in the actual pack seems to give a shit about decorations, as long as there are plates full of food and somewhere comfortable to sit. Derek agrees, mostly. He tries not to think too long about this being their house, his and Stiles’s. It’s not yet, not really. But it could be. Someday. 

After the movie, people help rinse and load the dishwasher. Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s arm and just looks at him. Derek nods but doesn’t say anything. 

“Ooooooookay. Time for a pack meeting. It was _awesome_ having everyone here together tonight, obviously. But we have some secret pack shit to talk about, so the rest of you need to get out now.” Derek just groans. “I mean, please be gracious enough to give us some alone time?” Derek hangs his head and tries not to laugh. 

“Whatever. Be back here Saturday at 11. Derek and I will make brunch before the forced hard labor. If you’re good, we’ll celebrate with dinner and a movie. So text me whether you want to build shit or cook. Pack attendance is mandatory, but I hope all of us will be there. Humans can come to dinner either way. But keep in mind that whoever cooks dinner gets to pick the movie. So choose wisely.” 

Derek just nods his approval. Everyone hugs or squeezes hands or brushes against him and Stiles on the way out. Maybe the humans are picking up some wolf habits? … It’s kind of nice. Even the shy touches from Danny and Allison. Lydia’s more purposeful. That’s not really surprising. 

Derek tells the pack to sit. Everyone smells nervous now. The longer he’s quiet the more it edges toward panic. Derek’s hoping Stiles will talk for him. He turns to look at Stiles, hopes his eyes aren’t flashing. Stiles puts a hand on his neck and leans in close. Whispers into his ear so quietly, “Sorry. _You_ have to do this part. You know that, _alpha_. Reassure them. Then tell them.” 

He takes a deep breath and looks around at them. “Don’t … don’t worry. Everything’s fine. It’s … good. Really. I just want to show you something I did. With the house. … I hope you’ll think it’s good.” 

Stiles squeezes his hand. Derek nods and continues. “Just follow me. Please. You’ll see.” He shows them the two full guest rooms. Isaac does the math for them, questioning two beds for five pack members. They go back to the living room to talk. 

“Right. So, Scotty and I will have the couches, obviously. And Derek has his own room still.” 

“I can make a third bedroom. If you think you’ll want to. I can do it before the weekend. The guest rooms are for weekends. Holidays. Pack only.” 

“Right, so what our fearless leader means is the rooms are here for pack sleepovers, which will be weekends-only plus breaks from school. One week at a time, max. So you can’t, like, move in for a whole summer. Derek still needs some quiet time, and we’ll all respect that, right?” They all nod. They’re too excited to complain about anything, it seems. 

Erica asks if they can stay tonight but Stiles shakes his head. “Guys, this was already a lot for one day, ok? But … hold on.” Stiles whispers in his ear, “What about Friday?” He nods. 

“Ok, so first pack sleepover is this Friday and the others can just join us Saturday for brunch before we get to work on the tables and shit. Yeah? Yeah. Good.” 

“Eloquent, Stiles.” He rolls his eyes. “Sleepovers are pack only. No outside people in the house while we sleep. But the others can keep coming to the house when someone in the pack is here, too.” 

“He means someone other than just Derek. And not-pack stays out of the bedrooms. Bedrooms are for sleeping, not shenanigans. Humans can nap on the couch.” 

Derek nods at them when Stiles is done talking. Stiles throws himself half on top of Derek and then everyone piles on for a minute before he shoves them off and sends them home. 

He pulls Stiles close and buries his nose behind Stiles’s ear. Stiles nuzzles his arm and sighs happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might end up hitting 300 subscriptions at some point in the not-so-distant future? So how should I reward you readers if that happens?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up alone, feeling tired and unsettled. Everything’s too bright and his footsteps seem to echo in the empty house. He wants to crawl under the covers and stay there all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should have proofread this more. Or waited to post it. But I'm impatient as fuck and just want to post it before I go to bed. So here it is.

It’s quiet again with just the two of them. Derek can relax, breathe deeply. The scent of the pack and their happiness lingers. Plus the scent of Derek-and-Stiles. It’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. 

Stiles whispers, “You did good, Derek. Really, really good. Everyone seems so happy.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

“Alright. You had a long day. I should go.” 

“ … Ok.” 

Stiles rubs a hand up and down Derek’s neck before he goes. He leans into it, wants to hold onto Stiles and not let him go. But he just watches Stiles walk out and strips down to crash onto the bed. He’s exhausted, but it’s hard to fall asleep. Finally he buries his nose in Stiles’s pillow and drifts off. 

He wakes up alone, feeling tired and unsettled. Everything’s too bright and his footsteps seem to echo in the empty house. He wants to crawl under the covers and stay there all day. 

Instead he showers and gets dressed. He’s shuffling into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker when the front door opens. He hadn’t heard Stiles pull up. That’s weird. He’s distracted by it. Then suddenly Stiles is wrapped around him, rubbing his face up and down Derek’s neck. 

Derek tenses, wanting to pull him close but also needing to push him away. Everything just feels wrong. 

Stiles pulls back and looks at him, eyes wild. “Sorry. Sorry.” Backs away and scrubs his hands through his hair. 

“Stop. Stiles, stop. What’s wrong?” 

“Fuck, Derek. I’m sorry. God, I’m an asshole. I should have known it was too much. You probably need a quiet day alone. Want me to go?” 

“No. You’re here now. I can make us breakfast?” 

“Thanks. The only edible thing left in the apartment was blueberry Pop-Tarts. They don’t even have icing. So gross, oh my god.” 

"That sounds disgusting.”

“Thank you. Iced brown sugar cinnamon or GTFO.”

“That also sounds disgusting. That’s not food.” 

“Oh, buddy, you are wrong about that. I’ll put them on the grocery list because I have done you a grave disservice by not bringing awesome brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts into your life yet.” 

“One bite. And I’m going to spit it out when I hate it.” 

“Sure you will, dude.” Stiles rolls his eyes at him. They’re both calmer now. Derek makes them a huge breakfast of eggs and toast and bacon and sausage and fruit. Stiles is managing to eat more than his share. 

“Did you run here?” 

“Huh?” 

“You just ate half your weight.” 

“Oh. Sorry?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“So, we do have a shit ton of things to do today if we’re gonna be ready by Friday. We have to get the rest of the furniture for the other bedroom and figure out all the lumber supplies and the grocery list and we have to fight about Jenga, obviously. Seriously. Lots to do, dude.” 

“Close your mouth and finish your food. You’re spraying eggs everywhere.” 

“Sorry.” 

“You’re gross. Load the dishwasher. Then order what you need from Amazon.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

He smacks Stiles on the ass on the way to the bedroom to grab socks. 

“Hey, what was that for?” 

“You know what that was for, Stiles.” 

“No? I thought that was our thing. Isn’t it a thing now? It’s totally a thing.” Derek smacks him on the ass again. “Ok, that is definitely not going to be a thing.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. Stiles stares at him open-mouthed and flushed.

“Seriously, dude?” He sounds hurt. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re so frustrating,” Stiles growls. “Sorry. Ignore that. Let’s go. I’ll place the order when we get back.” 

The rest of the day is fine, mostly. Stiles is a bit wound up but clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Derek lets it go. He’s still feeling a bit off, too. The store is loud and too bright and full of too many smells. It’s making him dizzy. He distracts them with stupid debates while they run errands. 

“Dude, I’m not Willow. Lydia’s Willow. Obviously. We clearly need to start _Buffy_ over from the beginning if you’re this wrong. So fucking wrong, dude. I’m embarrassed for you.” 

Yes, this is much better. “Fine. Angel or Spike?” 

“You’re just baiting me now, Derek. How is that even a question? Spike has the cheekbones and accent and all the best lines. Clearly he’s a sex god. And he can sing.” 

“Spike is soulless. And completely amoral. Angel has a soul. He’s on a mission of redemption. He’s protective and a leader. He saves lives.” 

“NO. Are you shitting me, Derek? It’s completely narcissistic of you to like Angel better because you identify with him. And it’s so off the mark. And you ignored the accent, the snark, and the singing.” 

“Angel had an accent too. Before.” 

“Dude, that Irish accent was so bad. That’s not the character’s fault though, I guess. But, god, of course he had more morals; he had a soul. Spike did good things even though he didn’t have a soul. And as soon as Angel loses his soul again, he’s all evil again.” 

“It’s not his fault that he loses his soul again. He didn’t know that having sex with Buffy would be dangerous. He didn’t know having sex would kill people.” 

“Yeah, that’s not the best message, really. Although supposedly it’s him being happy that loses him the soul. That’s fucked up. Orgasms aren’t necessarily what make people happiest. Also, super creepy for the old dead guy to be into a high school girl. It’s manipulative and creepy.” 

“Spike tried to rape Buffy.” 

“Yeah. And then they just like dropped it. Like with Chuck in Gossip Girl.” 

“Really, Stiles?” 

“Whatever. Fuck you.” 

“Are we almost done or what?” 

“Sure. You ok?” 

“I’m just … everything is just a lot today. Like everything is turned up too high.” 

“Yeah, yesterday was kind of a lot. I think it overloaded you. You need a blanket fort and quiet music and all the lights off.” 

“Maybe. … When I got up, the house felt … empty.” 

“You missed us! That’s so adorable.” Stiles is clearly trying not to be loud. In a very Stiles way. “I mean, it sucks, yeah. But it means you’re ready for the pack to start staying over. And they’re ready. This is so great. Admit it: I have the best ideas.” 

“I admit nothing.” 

“Oh my god, that is so your motto. Ugh.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Anyway, Scott and I have a videogames date tonight, but I’ve got time for pizza first if you want.” 

“Pizza’s good.” 

They eat the pizza in the dim light of their blanket fort. After Stiles leaves, he’s alone again in the house. He kind of hates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. I’m going to plug one of my stories again. Because it’s got like no hits, which is weird for a fluffy Sterek fic. I think it has a similar feel to this story. But it’s short. Check it out if you want. 
> 
> **[Love Is Good Soup](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5116100/chapters/11769965)**  
>  Rating: Teen And Up Audiences  
> Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply  
> Language: English  
> Words: 2436
> 
> Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski  
> Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Pack - Character, Background Sheriff Stilinski, background Melissa McCall, basically everyone else are NPCs, background Alan Deaton
> 
> Additional Tags: Pack Feels, Pack Bonding, Cooking, Grocery Shopping, pack dinnner, Getting Together, Deaton gives good advice for fucking once, Domestic Fluff, College Student Stiles, smooches, Derek and Stiles make dinner for the pack, Derek and Stiles play house


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Today must be a Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays."*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, why not have a second chapter today?

Derek wakes up to a text saying Stiles can’t come over today. Busy with lunch at the station and “other stuff.” He tries not to worry about what that might mean. Stiles says he’ll be over the next day to make sure the other bedroom is ok and go grocery shopping with him for the weekend.

He texts Stiles back: Today must be a Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.* 

Stiles texts back: NERD 

So, Derek has a free day. No plans. He runs. Showers. Invites the pack over for lunch if anyone’s free. Isaac and Boyd show up, and that helps a lot. They pick which rooms they want. He tells them if Erica gets mad at them for picking while she’s not here, it’s their problem. He’s not getting in the middle of that. 

They leave after lunch but Erica swings by later “to say hi” but mostly to eat some leftovers. He feels even better after that. He’s seen most of the pack today now. He picks Thai take-out for dinner and swings by to see Scott at the vet’s on the way. 

He wants to make sure Scott’s ok with not having a room in the house. If it’s a problem, he could add on to the house, probably. He could add a room for Scott and one for Stiles. Or they could share. Scott and Stiles could share, he means. Scott laughs at him. Says he’s fine on the couch and that he’s definitely not going to need an extra room for Stiles. 

Scott slaps him on the back and tells him that he should “go for it” whenever he’s ready. Derek can’t think about that right now. Instead he asks Deaton about plants for Stiles’s garden. Asks him not to spill the secret. Deaton gives him a list of plants he can get at the nursery and promises to order or get him cuttings of the rest by the end of next week. 

He gets back to the house before realizing he ordered enough Thai for two. He figures it’s a long shot, but texts Stiles to invite him over anyway. He doesn’t get a reply but hears Stiles’s car three minutes later. 

“That was fast. I just texted you.” 

“I was already on my way. Scott told me you came by so I figured you’d be home soon. And that maybe you’d feed me. Like a good alpha.”

“Asshole.” 

“You know it! What d'ya wanna watch tonight?” 

“ _Hitchhiker’s_?” 

“Zooey Deschanel?”** 

“No. The BBC one.”*** 

“Good. Yeah. I mean, I love Martin Freeman. And Mos. And especially Sam Rockwell. But the movie was so meh. It hurts my heart.” 

Three hours later, they’re curled up together and mostly asleep. He doesn’t want to move. Knows that soon Stiles will get up and go back to the apartment.

“God, I haven’t seen that in years. But now I kinda want to see the other one, too. Alan Rickman has the best voice. So sexy. Even when he’s a whiny, depressed robot.” 

“You’re so weird.” 

“Duh. So … I guess I should go? What time do you want me back tomorrow?” 

“Just stay.” 

“ … Oh. Ok. Yeah, I can stay tonight. Might as well. Scott’ll be happy to have the place to himself again, I’m sure. Especially since he didn’t see Allison yesterday and won’t see her much tomorrow. And now you have these comfy couches. And there are blankets now, so I won’t even freeze to death this time.” 

“ _Stiles_. You can sleep in my bed. Even when you’re not cold. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” 

“Oh, but, won’t that confuse … people? The pack are going to think ... ” 

“The pack are going to think you sleep in my bed. So?” 

“No, I mean, they’re gonna think we’re _sleeping together_. Like a couple.” 

“Stiles, no one else has slept in my bed. No one else helped me set up this house. No one else got drunk to be brave enough to bully me into making this pack a family. We lead the pack together. What kind of wrong impression do you think they’re going to get? Especially after your father’s visit.” 

“ … Oh. I guess. Yeah. I just … Sometimes it seems like, yeah … and sometimes it seems like you just … ” 

“This is the happiest I’ve been in a decade. Waking up with you. Knowing the pack will be together here all the time. My pack, my family, you.” 

Stiles looks at him, traces fingers across his brow, down his cheek, his neck. He doesn’t know what Stiles is seeing. Never knows. So he stands there and lets Stiles look a moment before pulling him into a bear hug. 

“Whoa. I need some air here.” Stiles squeaks and puts a little space between them. Stiles’s smile makes his heart ache and he has to reach out to squeeze his hands. Stiles steps back and rests his head on Derek’s chest. Traces patterns across his shirt. Stiles’s smell right now is intoxicating. 

“What … what is that? Do you … you smell different? What _is_ that?”

“Hmmmmm. I’ll tell you sometime. But not right now.” Stiles pulls away and winks at him. 

There’s some tension as they’re lying in bed. Like now that it’s a conscious decision neither of them knows what to do. Derek is about to … well, something. He needs to do something. Stiles beats him to it. As usual. And in most absurd way possible. Also as usual. 

“Ok, Derek. Who would win in a fight between a caveman and an astronaut?” 

“ … That question doesn’t even make sense.” 

“Sure it does. You just have to break it down logically. See, the astronaut is smarter because her brain is more evolved and she has a ton of knowledge developed over a gazillion years of civilization. And she knows better how to use tools. And also she’s smarter than even the average person now because NASA doesn’t accept stupid people into the space program. Buuuuuuuuut she’s also been socialized not to kill and may have some bone density problems depending on how long she was in space.” 

“You’re ridiculous. Go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [hitchhikers.wikia.com/wiki/Thursday](http://hitchhikers.wikia.com/wiki/Thursday)
> 
> ** [imdb.com/title/tt0371724/?ref_=nm_knf_i4](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0371724/?ref_=nm_knf_i4)
> 
> *** [imdb.com/title/tt0081874/?ref_=nm_flmg_wr_10](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081874/?ref_=nm_flmg_wr_10)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ravenous wolves will break down our door in an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t sure what to do with this chapter at first. I needed another day for things to shake out. So I wrote a bonus chapter to [Love Is Good Soup](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5116100/chapters/11769965) first instead. With sex. Still rated Teen though, so don’t get too excited. ;)

“Nooooo. Come baaaaaaaaack.”

“Get up.” 

“Nooooooooooooo. Whyyyyyyyyyyyy???” 

“Ravenous wolves will break down our door in an hour.” 

That seems to wake Stiles up. He jolts upright in bed and squints at Derek. 

“ … What?” Derek huffs. 

“That was funny.” 

“ … Thanks?” 

Stiles gets out of bed, walks slowly toward him. Derek tries not to get distracted by the long stretch of bare skin in front of him. Tries to keep his eyes above shoulder level. Tries not to groan. To reach out. To touch. The pack will be here soon. And things with Stiles are way too complicated to work through in an hour anyway. 

Stiles is right up in his face now. Hands on his cheeks. Turning his head one way then the other. Back of a hand on his forehead. Fingers at his pulse. Gaze staring intently into his eyes. 

“ _What_.” 

“How can I tell if a werewolf is possessed?” 

“Shut up and get dressed, idiot.” 

“Oh, thank god.” 

“You’re hilarious.” 

“ _I am_. That’s the natural order of things: I’m funny and you’re strong and stoic and pretty.” 

That stops him in his tracks. He cocks his head. “Is that really what you think?” 

“What, do you prefer ‘handsome’? Look, you’re hot like burning and everyone knows it. Don’t fish for compliments.” 

“No. Funny. Is that all you think you are?” 

“What? No. I’m awesome. I’m smart and loyal and intuitive and fluent in the language of your eyebrows. AND I’m funny.” 

“And gorgeous. Now get dressed.” 

“Whaaaaaat??? You can’t say that and walk away. Come back!” 

“Stiles. We don’t have time for this right now. Get dressed. Pack business today. Sleepover tonight. We can … whatever … tomorrow night.” 

“Oh, we’re going to whatever _so much_ tomorrow, dude. We’re gonna whatever _all over the place_ tomorrow.” 

Derek scrunches up his nose. “You’re ridiculous. Make the bed.” 

“Yeah, no. That’s just dumb. Overruled.” 

“What?” 

“No one comes in here but us. There’s no one to impress. And the only thing we’re gonna do is rip the covers right back off to get in bed. It’s pointless. Forget it.” 

“You left ‘asshole’ off your list.” 

“Yeah, well, I left it off yours, too.” But Stiles says it as he slides under Derek’s arm, so it’s hard to take any of this too seriously. “The worst thing about having company for brunch is that I have to brush my teeth before breakfast and then the food tastes funny. It’s so much better to wait until after.”

“ _Ridiculous_.”

“Whatever. I’m clearly doing _something_ right,” Stiles says with a wink. 

“Yeah,” Derek lets out on a breath. But Stiles is right there, so he hears it. Grins at him, pinches his side. 

They’ve barely made it to the kitchen when Erica barges in, a half hour early, saying she’s starving and couldn’t wait any longer and there better be some fucking food ready. Stiles scoops out some fruit salad and shoves it at her. She curls her lip at him but eats it anyway. 

The others trickle in over the next hour. So it’s a rolling breakfast more than a group sit-down. At least it makes it easier to cook.

Stiles, Lydia, Isaac, and Scott stay inside to clean up and prepare for dinner. Isaac and Scott are going shopping and then making spaghetti and meatballs. Lydia and Stiles have some research and translation work to do for Deaton, but she’ll make the salad and garlic bread later. Stiles is on dessert duty. He’s making caramel corn. 

Stiles joins them outside after a couple hours. He’s rubbing his eyes and stretching. Must have been sitting and reading too long again. 

“Uh, that doesn’t look like picnic tables and benches. What are you doing?” 

Well, there goes the surprise. Derek shows him the sketch for a small side table and the Jenga blocks. Stiles is so excited that he jumps into his arms and plants a kiss right on his mouth. 

The world stops. Stiles pulls his head back a few inches and stares at him. Derek is frozen. He hears wood falling. Someone gasping. Someone clapping. Lydia’s heels clacking as everyone else runs out to check on them. 

Stiles laughs. “Sorry dude. That was rude.” Rubs a hand over Derek’s mouth then his own to dry them off. Derek’s still frozen. “Boyd, you’re lucky Derek was closest when I found out,” Stiles says with a wink. Derek rolls his eyes and drops Stiles to the ground. 

“Back to work everyone,” Derek says. It’s quiet but firm. 

“Yes sir, _alpha_ sir,” Stiles snarks before heading back inside. 

He hears Erica mutter something about knowing now why Stiles doesn’t need his own room. Derek flushes. He raises his voice so those inside will be able to hear too. “Pack outside. Now. Everyone else inside.” He sees their worried glances and rolls his eyes at them. They relax. He walks them into the woods so he’s sure the humans won’t hear, even if the conversation gets heated. 

Stiles is taking calming breaths. He smells … guilty? Derek pulls him over and tucks Stiles into his side. Whispers, “It’s fine.” He gets a small smile and a quick squeeze in reply. 

As usual, Stiles talks first. “Ok, everyone. That was a surprise to all of us.” Boyd snorts. Scott smacks him on the arm. “Thanks, buddy. Look, whatever happens with me and Derek is none of your fucking business. This is not something we’re discussing. No pot shots. No snickering. If you need to gossip about it, do it somewhere fucking else. Or I’ll shoot you all with wolfsbane bullets.” 

“ _Stiles_. I already said we’re _not_ doing that.” Stiles smirks at him. So that argument is back on the agenda. Fuck. “I’m the alpha. If you have actual concerns about how I run this pack, you talk about it one-on-one _in private_ with me. And _not today_.” He looks at each of them. Isaac gives a small smile. Boyd nods. Scott grins. Erica says to lighten up and starts walking back to the house. Meeting over. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day. They get Jenga cut but they’ll have to sand down the blocks before they can play. And the table is wobbly. They’ll have to fix it tomorrow. 

Dinner is less successful. They eat the salad and bread while waiting for pizza to arrive. They’ll try spaghetti and meatballs again tomorrow for lunch. Derek will supervise. Scott and Isaac feel so bad they let Lydia pick the movie. 

“What is it with you and sappy Nicholas Sparks movies, Lydia?” Stiles whines. Danny tells her to at least pick the one with Channing Tatum.* Stiles very much agrees. 

Later, Stiles follows him into the bedroom and sits next to him to talk in a low whisper. “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” Derek frowns at him, confused. “It’s not about the … it’s not about you or today’s … stuff. I haven’t seen Scott much lately. And I don’t want to abandon him out there. So when we’re all here, I sleep on the couch.” 

He hugs Stiles and smiles into his throat. “Of course. You always … Thank you.” 

“I’ll stay over tomorrow night, just us. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep. Even though Stiles is in the next room instead of curled up with him in bed. The pack is all here now. It’s not perfect, but it’s close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Dear John: [imdb.com/title/tt0989757](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0989757/)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s breath catches. It’s overwhelming to think about this actually working out. Having this kind of family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, y’all. I can’t believe this has hit over 300 subscribers. That’s something my brain can’t fucking even. So, here’s our reward. This is the chapter Stiles (and therefore _you_ too) _fucking finally_ starts finding out what’s up. 
> 
> This is kind of the first chapter I wrote for this story. Or, a reconstituted version of the first part of it, anyway. Because I had intended this to happen much earlier in the story. So, this is the reveal of the main idea I had for this story. I can’t believe it took me over 20 chapters and over 25,000 words to get here. And it _still_ feels kind of rushed to me? But, well, here it is.

Sunday is relaxed. Breakfast is just the pack. It’s a quieter day than yesterday, which was full of energy and excitement. Today everything feels more settled. Everyone seems more confident and content. Is this their new normal? 

After they eat, Derek and Stiles swap places back and forth between checking on the woodworking Erica and Boyd are finishing up outside and helping Scott and Isaac make an edible lunch in the kitchen. 

Stiles suggests “pack-plus cooking lessons” on Wednesdays until the end of summer. Without bothering to ask if Derek’s interested, of course. Derek knows how to cook enough things to last the summer. After that, he’ll have to figure something out or rope Boyd and Danny into helping. 

Saturdays will be, in Stiles’s words, “pack-and-friends fun time and/or forced labor and dinner.” After that will be pack overnight and pack-only training on Sunday. Derek really wants them to get back to physical training now that the other pack bonding activities are settled. Maybe they can squeeze some training in with everyone on cooking nights, too. 

That’s a problem for another week, though. After lunch, Derek sends everyone home. It’s been a lot of togetherness and noise and too much space between him and Stiles. He’s ready for more quiet and less distance. Stiles is wound up, though. 

“Dude, this weekend was _awesome_. _All_ the weekends are gonna be _awesome_.” 

“Not everyone can be here every weekend during school.” 

“Duuuuuuude, you’re harshing my mellow.”* 

“What does that even mean?” 

“I think it’s some old hippie saying? But, seriously, can’t we just enjoy how _awesome_ this weekend was?” 

“Stop saying ‘awesome.’ It’s sounds wrong now.” 

“ _Harsh_.” 

“And I _was_ enjoying it. You’re the one who brought up the future.” 

“But I love talking about our future, dude. Because it’s gonna be _awesome_.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, ok. I see your point about that. Like, it’s lost all meaning. It doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. But, c’mon. Our _future_ , Derek. The future of our pack. This pack that’s gonna stick together and always be here. _Our family_.” 

Derek’s breath catches. This is actually working out? Having this kind of family again? After this weekend, he can almost believe it. Can see how things are falling into place a little. It’s what they’ve been working toward. But this is the first time he’s actually believed it might work. 

Stiles wraps him up in a hug. For a minute it feels like those arms are all that’s holding him together. He can’t stop himself anymore. There’s nothing standing in their way but him. Things are settled with the pack. So much better that they were even a week ago. So much better than last semester. His whole world has changed. And it feels like all of that is because of Stiles. 

He whispers, reverently. “You’ve changed my whole life. I don’t understand how … how you fixed everything. The whole pack.” 

Stiles jumps in surprise. “What?! No. No … I didn’t, Derek. _You_ did the hard work. You took a shitshow of bad luck and turned that around. You found three teenagers who had nowhere to fit in and you created a safe space for them. You gave them purpose and connection. You opened your home to them. You stepped up to be their alpha. You’ve saved them. From death. From disease. From abuse. From neglect. You gave them a pack. A family. And now a real home. That’s not me. That’s you.” 

“But I wasn’t this alpha without you. There wasn’t a home to give them. I wasn’t what they needed until you made me that person. You’re a miracle.” 

“Dude. We have got to stop watching Nicholas Sparks movies with Lydia. Seriously, she has her movie privileges revoked for the next six months. _At least_. And there’s a permanent ban on that Sparks dreck.” 

“ _Stiles_.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Derek. It’s _too much_. Too much credit. Too many words. From you? That’s like a 90-page speech. And you only learned how to say ‘thank you’ like yesterday. I’m gonna pass out from fucking shock if you go on.” 

“But I _need_ you to know. You have to _know_. There’s … ” His voice drops to a whisper. “I know there’s too much we never say.” 

“Pretty much everything ever is stuff you never say.” 

“I know. But I guess you’re fixing that too.” 

“You saying _I’m rubbing off on you_? Because _that_ is something I’m _definitely_ down for. Rubbing off on you is definitely high on my to-do list.” Stiles leers at him. 

“You’re so romantic.” 

Stiles sputters out a cough. “R … ro … _romantic_?! Is that … is that where we are now? Because I don’t know how to … _Derek_. I can’t … Nice, romantic shit isn’t a thing I’m good at.” 

“Stiles, I don’t want Scott. I want you.” 

“Ugh. Dude! That’s an image I need to delete from my brain _immediately_. Barf barf barf. That’s so gross and you are never allowed to mention Scott like that ever again.” Stiles shudders. Actually _shudders_. Wow. 

“Stiles, I don’t need you to be anything else. Just you.” 

“Same, Derek. Fucking same.” Stiles laughs lowly and scrubs a hand across his face. “Can this maybe be enough words for today? Can we just … I just want to really … I just need … ” Stiles lets out a hard breath and leans in to kiss him. Derek tries. He wants this to be ok. He wants to be what Stiles needs. Because Stiles is absolutely what Derek needs. He tries to get in synch. Tries to let Stiles deepen the kiss. Tries to make the kiss be everything Stiles wants it to be. But he just can’t. He squirms away. Tries to wipe his face without being obvious. But Stiles notices everything. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Stiles is wrong about this, apparently: [worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-har2.htm](http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-har2.htm)
> 
>  _ETA:_ Before y'all kill me, read the new tags, ok?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes, just, _your face, Derek_. It’s hard for … It’s not easy for me to keep my face off your face, you know."

“Whoa. Uh … Sorry? I just … I guess … I should have asked? I should have been … uh … more, uh, specific or something? I … I shouldn’t have assumed. That’s my bad, dude. Shit. Uh … sorry. … … … … _Shit._ ” 

“No. Stop. Stiles, it’s … _Fuck_.” He hangs his head. 

“Sometimes, just, _your face_ , Derek. It’s hard for … It’s not easy for me to keep my face off your face, you know. Obviously. Because I fucked up and did that, well, _twice_ this weekend, I guess. You’re just … _damn_ , Derek. You’re … you’re so beautiful _it hurts to look at you_.” 

Derek’s heart races. The look on Stiles’s face steals his breath. 

“And then … fuck, Derek … then you go and be _amazing_ on top of that. Smart. Secretly kind. Even funny once every, like, five years.” Stiles smirks at him. 

“I just … I look at you sometimes and I can’t even fucking believe you’re _real_. That you’re m- ” Stiles blows out a harsh breath. “ … That you’re here and I’m here _with you_. But, shit, I know better than to push. I know you’re not ready. I mean, I thought for a minute, maybe … But then … But deep down, I knew you weren’t. I get it, though. You don’t want this now. Maybe not ever. I shouldn’t’ve fucking pushed. I’m usually better than this. I was … selfish. I was _selfish_. And it was shitty. I’m so sorry. You, uh, want me to go? I can go.”

He grabs Stiles by the shoulders, slides his hands up Stiles’s neck into his hair, holding him there as he leans their foreheads together. Tries to figure out how to fix this. 

“ _Don’t go_. Stiles, I _never_ want you to go. I want you to _move in_. Not in your own room like the others. Mine. … _Ours_. If that’s what you want. But … there are things you want ... and I can’t … I don’t think I can. … I guess we have to talk. _More_.” 

Stiles heaves out a sad sigh. “More talking. Yaaaaaay. … Ok, no, yeah, you’re right. We should talk. And, hey, you apparently got really good at it over-fucking-night. So, that’s … helpful. I, uh, don’t think _I’ve_ gotten any better at it, though. You know, just a, uh, warning. But it’s worth it, I guess. You’re definitely worth it. I mean, if talking means I get to sleep with you every night, I. am. in. Because I am a hundred percent onboard with that.” 

Derek frowns. “You might not be.” 

“ _Yes I am_. Whatever it is. Derek, you have to know that. You can’t not know that by now. If … if … ” His voice drops to a whisper for the word: “ _forever_ … ” He whooshes out a breath. “ … is just like Thursday night was with us ... If that’s all I get, _I want it_. I want you. I want to be with you. _Whatever_ that looks like. I can do better … _be_ better ... for you. I can stop pushing. I _will_. I will stop fucking pushing like an asshole.” 

“Stiles, don’t make promises about staying. Not yet. Not until you know. Please.” 

Stiles frowns at him. “Ok. Ok, sure. I’m listening. I’m a good listener, Derek. Really.” 

That makes him laugh for a second. It helps. “It’s hard to … I don’t really know how to. Stiles I want … but … ” He lets out a frustrated groan. “Look, there are things that I don’t … do. That I don’t _…_ like … ” He sighs. “ _Kissing_. I just … _I don’t kiss_.” 

Stiles is silent for a moment. Clearly confused. So he does what he always does in uncomfortable situations. “What, like _Pretty Woman_?” 

Derek drops his hands and steps back. “Never mind.” 

Stiles grabs his hands. “Sorry. Shit. Sorry. I’m such a fucking asshole. _You know that_.” Derek smiles a little at that. “Sorry. Just tell me.” 

Derek sighs. “Can I just … ?” He huffs, sliding his hands under Stiles’s shirt, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“Yeah. Yeah. _Yes_.” Stiles raises his arms and lets Derek slide his hands up his chest as he skims the shirt off him. “Ohmy _god_.” Stiles drops his arms and lets his head fall back as he sighs. Derek nuzzles into the crook of his neck, scraping stubble gently against the tender skin there. 

“So … Ok … Just, uh, checking. No mouths, right? … What about hands? Can I touch? Can I touch you, please? Hands are ok?” Stiles whispers.

Derek nods into his shoulder then pulls back. “But not right now. _Please_. Just let me, please?” Stiles nods, holds his arms still at his sides. Derek takes off his own shirt. Stiles gives off a sharp spike of lust. It’s dizzying. He drinks in the sight of Stiles’s lean muscles before pulling him tight against his chest and tucking his face into Stiles’s neck again. He runs his hands up and down Stiles’s back. Stiles lets out a happy sigh. Derek leans back to grin at him. 

Stiles lets him explore quietly, as though making a sound might spook Derek, make him run away. He skims over every inch of bare skin, making Stiles shiver. He starts with fingers and hands then comes back to nuzzle him everywhere there’s bare skin. He sinks to his knees, his beard scratching lightly at the tender skin of Stiles’s belly. Stiles is clenching and unclenching his hands, dragging in huge gasping breaths. 

“Deeeeeeeeeerek,” Stiles whines. “Oh my _goooooood_. Derek. _Derek_. I can’t … I _can’t_. It’s too much. Too much.” Stiles bites his lip and tries to stay still but it’s clear he’s coming undone, mumbling something about floating away, or burning up, or melting to the floor. 

Derek stands and gathers him back into a hug, running his hands up and down his back with more pressure. 

“Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiit, Derek. _Fuck_. That was the most intense … _I don’t even know_. I … I’ve had fucking _orgasms_ that were less intense than that. Fuuuuuuuck.” 

Stiles laughs and Derek does too. “Stiles. Thank you for … I don’t know how to … ” He just squeezes Stiles tighter. 

“It’s ok. We can just … this is good. We can do just this. More of just this is fine. No pressure. You just, uh, lead. I’ll … I’ll follow your lead. Even if this is it. If it’s you and me and _hands_ and snuggling in bed and breakfast together, I’m in. I swear to fucking god, Derek. I’m _in_. I’m sooooooooo fucking in.” 

Derek grins, relieved. “Me too.” 

“Bed now? _Definitely_ bed. I need to sleep for like fifteen hours right now. In your bed. … In your arms. _Holy shit._ ” Stiles just blinks at him, wonder in his eyes. 

 _Holy shit_ is exactly right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah ... boundaries and shit.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about it makes him want to pass out or throw up or maybe just laugh.

They only sleep for seven hours, not fifteen. And they’re both dragging in the morning, even after a pot of coffee. There’s so much more to talk about, but clearly neither of them are interested in getting into it again right now. 

The weekend was exhausting. His whole world shifted in one weekend. Thinking about it makes him want to pass out or throw up or maybe just laugh. He just keeps shaking his head every few minutes. He gets side-eyed when he does, but Stiles is grinning at the same time. 

They make breakfast together mostly naked, brushing up against each other as they move around the kitchen. They eat with Stiles tucked into his side on the couch. 

“Could use a kitchen table,” Stiles mumbles around his food. 

“Maybe. I like this.” He rubs his cheek over Stiles’s hair. 

“Me too. But we still need a table. Pack dinners and shit. Holidays.” 

“We need to _train_.” 

“Yeah. That too. We’ve been all happy and lazy. So, what, a couple weeks refreshing the basics and then something new?” 

“More cooperation, less horrible injury.” 

Stiles squints at him. “Fine. I’ll figure soooooooomething out that’s boring and safe, since that’s _totally_ the way to get ready for epic battles with the forces of super-nature.” 

“And _tell me_ first.” 

“Yes, dear.” He flicks Stiles’s ear. “Ow, asshole!” 

“What are you doing today?” 

“Stocking Dad’s fridge, lunch at the station, packing, dinner and games with Scott, then back here.” 

“ … Packing?” 

“Kidding. Sort of. You should probably think about it some more before I pull up with a Uhaul and a turkey baster.” 

“What.”

“Why do I bother? Anyway, don’t you think you should check in with each of the pack? And I should tell my dad we’re together. Officially.”

“Sounds like something we can get done today. Need help carrying boxes?”

“Thaaaaaaat doesn’t really count as taking time to think about it. You need to show them you really care what they think. Also, Scotty’ll help me load the Jeep. But you can unload them for me with your _big strong alpha muscles_.” 

Derek shivers. Tries to fight it, but he can’t. 

“Whoa, dude! Did you just pop _claws_? Oh my god. If I didn’t have to leave right now … Holy shit, Derek. When I get home, I’m gonna be so good to you, _alpha_.” 

Shit. And there go the fangs. Stiles will never let him live this down. He expects laughter. But Stiles just looks at him like a prize he just won at the fair. Cups Derek’s cheek and runs a thumb over a fang.

“This ok?” Stiles whispers. Derek just hums and nuzzles into his hand, fangs and claws receding. “Amazing. That’s never not gonna be cool as shit.” 

“See you tonight?” Stiles just grins at him before running out.

This seems … easier than he thought it would be. Not much has changed with them. Not yet. There’s still more to talk about. More to explain. But he believes Stiles. That they can make this work. Everything was so hard for so long. How can it be this easy all of a sudden? Or was he just not paying attention? 

He tries to stay out of his head all day. Tries not to worry about how calm Beacon Hills is. Tries not to think of this as a temporary reprieve. Even if it’s temporary, they’re still better prepared now. And they’ll get even better. Derek will be better. He goes on Amazon and orders some books on strategic thinking, game theory, military strategy. He’s going to step up.

The first step is making sure everyone has the tools they need. He spends three hours building and digging out the garden plot for Stiles. Then he goes for a run in the woods. It feels good to get in touch with his land. And the quiet is nice. Mostly because he knows later Stiles will be there to drown it out. 

He showers and heads to the nursery to buy everything for the garden. Picks up groceries on the way home. Then he plants. And plants. And plants. Leaving room for the ones he still needs from Deaton. He wonders if they should have a food garden, too. Something the pack can tend together. 

He hears Boyd pull up and go inside. Comes out a few minutes later with sandwiches and chips for both of them. They talk about training, gardening, Stiles, cooking. Derek should listen to Boyd more. Encourage him to speak up. Boyd’s calm and good at thinking three steps ahead but he talks even less than Derek. 

He texts Stiles about capture the flag with Derek and Boyd as team captains. They both need the practice. Lydia and Stiles can observe and evaluate. Stiles texts back: “smart not boring good jaerb.”* 

Derek peeks into Boyd’s bedroom after he leaves. There’s a picture of Boyd and his sister on the dresser now. Why? He could have waited to bring it on Friday. Maybe he just wanted a free lunch. No one’s here to see it but he can’t help but smile anyway. 

He doesn’t have anything in his room. Maybe that’s better. Stiles is sure to fill it with clutter. He’s already littered the living room with maps and books and scrolls. And one digital photo frame in the living room showing the pack acting like idiots. 

Erica calls him later. Informs him she’s going to paint her room red. He tells her that’s awful. But she’s the one who’s has to sleep there so it’s not his problem. And doing the painting is also not his problem. She doesn’t care about the garden at all but says she’d rather shovel dirt than cook. Later she emails him a link of a blanket set she wants to go with the red walls. It’s purple and yellow and green. He’s _never_ going into her room. An hour later she texts telling him to buy Stiles a moving-in present. 

What more can he give Stiles? He made him a garden. Well, that’s for the pack. Something just for Stiles, though … An hour later he still has no fucking idea. 

Isaac comes by with pizza for dinner. And plants from Deaton. He lets Isaac add them to the garden. At first Isaac’s tentative. Maybe afraid to break them. He claps Isaac on the shoulder and says everything looks great. They sit outside awhile. Throw out ideas for the vegetable garden. Before Isaac goes, he asks if he can leave something in this room. Derek tells him he can do whatever he wants with it. It hasn’t sunk in yet that it’s his. Derek checks later. There are dogtags on Isaac’s nightstand. Holy shit. 

Derek has no _things_ for their bedroom. That used to feel freeing. Now it’s just ... He goes online and orders Erica’s ugly bedding and a poster of Madison Square Park** for himself. 

That night Stiles walks in with a Star Wars poster that he props in the corner of the living room before dragging Derek to bed. Stiles pushes him down and rubs all over him like a cat. It’s not sexy; it’s _ridiculous_. … He refuses to find it charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Coach Z from Homestar Runner [can't say "job."](http://www.homestarrunner.com/cantsayjob.html)
> 
> And the Strong Bad Email videos are the best thing ever. Especially [Techno](http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail45.html) and [Dragon](http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail58.html) and [Japanese Cartoon](http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail57.html).
> 
> ** [madisonsquarepark.org/things-to-do/gardens](http://www.madisonsquarepark.org/things-to-do/gardens)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles asks him, “What did you want to be when you were little?”
> 
> He whispers, “Fireman.”

They lie in bed the next morning just being lazy. 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

“A good alpha.” 

“Oh, god, you can’t do that to me. It’s too early to be that level of _serious_. That shit has to wait until after noon. At least until after coffee! _I mean_ : What the fuck are you going to do with your time when school starts back?”

“I don’t know. First time I’ve had to think about it.” 

“What were you doing when we were in school before?” 

“You were there.” 

“I was there but I wasn’t _there_ there.” 

“We talked like every day.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Ok, so … what did you want to be when you were little?” 

He whispers, “Fireman.” 

“Fuck. Ok. So _that’s_ out. Nothing else?” 

He sighs. “I need something with flexible hours. And I don’t have a degree.” 

“You ever think about getting one?” 

“Because I need to spend even more time with teenagers who make me feel old?” 

“We’re not teenagers anymore.” 

“ _Finally_. I’ve had more than enough of that.” 

“Whatever. So what are you good at and interested in?” 

“I don’t know. Nothing?” 

Stiles smacks his shoulder. “What about … fitness training. Teaching self-defense. … Modeling?” 

Derek grits his teeth. He needs out of the conversation. Now. “I’m going for a run.” Stiles just stares at him, smells confused. Right now he doesn’t fucking care. 

He stares at himself in the mirror after his shower. Looks at his face, his body. It’s gotten him pretty far in life. For good and bad, really. But he’s had enough of using that to skate by. Enough of feeling used. 

When he gets out Stiles isn’t in the house. Did he leave? No, Jeep’s still outside. He listens harder. Hears Stiles out back. Finds him sitting at the edge of the garden, running fingers through the dirt. 

“This garden is amazing, Derek. Thank you.” 

He just shrugs, still feeling a little raw. 

Stiles sighs. “So, that was a shitty conversation where I apparently picked at a scab I didn’t know you had. But I guess I should have. I shouldn’t have joked about it. It didn’t even occur to me that you would possibly even think I’d actually recommend jobs where you have to spend so much time interacting with non-pack people. Pleasing people all day. Not your thing. I get that. But … it felt like more than that? I don’t know what nerve exactly I hit. You can tell me or not. Now or later or never.” 

Derek doesn’t have anything to say. He just sits down and looks at Stiles. 

“But … do you wanna hear any of my _actual_ ideas?” Derek nods. “Landscaping seems like an obvious choice. Though you’d have to have someone else handle the customers probably. Well, not _have to_. I’m sure you _could_ do it. But, like, you’d probably rather have someone else run interference, right? So, like, Erica would be fantastic at that. And she’s working on her business degree. So that’s an idea for the future. I’m sure there’s shit you can read up on or short courses or whatever to prepare. Or something with drawing? Did you know Lydia’s been writing children’s books focusing on science and math? Like, to get more girls interested in STEM, though kids of other genders can read them without feeling left out, I think. It’s helping her not yell at her professors in class and not be so frustrated that everything moves so slowly. She was very disappointed to find out she couldn’t just test out of all the classes in her majors and move straight to grad school.” 

Derek huffs a half-laugh at that. Lydia is growing on him. Slowly. 

“Anyway, my point is: She hasn’t showed them to a publisher or anything. And they could hook her up with an artist, of course. Oooooooor, _you_ could work with her and do the illustrations, maybe. I mean, if you can deal with Lydia bossing you around about it.” 

Derek scrunches up his face at that. He doesn’t think he’s ready for that much Lydia yet. 

“Ok, or what about translating? Do you need an actual degree for that, or do you just have to be fluent in some languages for it? Because that would be easy for you.” Stiles sounds hesitant now, much quieter. “ … Or, uh, what about being a deputy? You and, um, Dad work well together. And you have lots of advantages over perps. And it’s kind of like being a firefighter but not? Lots of saving people. And you already protect the town. This way you’d just get paid for it. And Dad can make your schedule flexible and cover for you and shit when wolfy shenanigans are going down. So, like firefighting without the, um, fire … ” 

Derek just stares at him. Shocked. Stiles thinks he can do all those things??? He … he can’t … He doesn’t know what to … “When are you moving in?” He wishes he didn’t sound as wrecked, as desperate as that came out. 

“Derek … are you sure you want me to?” 

“ _YES_.” 

“ … what did the pack say?” 

“What did your dad say?” 

“Did you remember to talk to Scott about it?” 

“Did you?” 

“Yeah, dude. Conversation went like this: ‘Think I’m gonna move in with Derek soon.’ ‘Yeah. Figured.’ ‘Ok?’ ‘Yeah man.’ ‘Cool dude.’ ‘Ok.’” 

Derek just looks at him. Stiles is being completely serious. Honest. “What about your dad?” 

“ _What about the rest of the pack?_ ” 

“Too distracted with decorating their rooms to care.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Well?” 

“He said if you want to know you have to bring him lunch at the station and ask him yourself.” 

“ … Lie.” 

“Sorry, not this time. Straight-up truth.” 

“Shit.” 

“It’s fine, dude. There’s like a 30- … maybe 40-percent chance he’s trying to recruit you.” 

Derek sighs. “What if I say no?” 

“Dude, he’s not the Godfather.* You’re allowed to refuse.” 

Derek squints at him, trying to figure out what Stiles wants him to do, to say. As usual, his guess is wrong.

“Enough taaaaaaaaalking. Can we move on to the makeup not-sex or whatever? I mean, if you want to … Or at least like crawl back into bed?” 

It sounds like a joke but Stiles smells nervous and a little hopeful and … not actually like lust. That makes it easy to say _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [youtube.com/watch?v=SeldwfOwuL8](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeldwfOwuL8)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to kiss you right now. So fucking hard. What can I do instead of kissing you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is still Teen and not Mature (yet). Let me know if you disagree.

Stiles drags him to the bedroom, bumping into walls and tripping over his own feet. Derek shouldn’t find it adorable, but … 

“I want to kiss you right now. So fucking hard. What can I do? What can I _do_ when I want to kiss you? Like when I’m happy and want to give you a quick kiss on the lips. Like not sex kisses just like when I feel like giving you a quick kiss and then moving on to whatever we were doing? What can I do instead of that, Derek?” 

Stiles is bouncing on his feet, shaking out his arms. “Because sometimes I feel like I’m going to _explode_ if I don’t do something with you … at you, on you, to you. What do I do when I neeeeeeeeeeeed to get my happiness _all over you_. What can I do?” 

“That’s disturbing … and gross. How much coffee did you have?” 

“Shut up. Figure something out or I’m going to puke my rainbow unicorn feelings all over you in _words_.”

“I don’t know. Hug?” 

“Hmmmmm. I do love a good hug. And there are lots of kinds of hugs. It’s adaptable. Covers a wide range of feelings. But what kind of hug is the right level of intensity? I dunno. I _hug_ Scott. I need a _Derek_ thing.”

Derek just stares at him, vaguely disappointed in himself for not having a good idea. 

“Dude, no. This isn’t a frowny thing. This is a fuuuuuuun thing. This is a ‘figure out fun things Stiles and Derek can do with their bodies’ thing. A fun-only zone, ok? But now we’re in your bedroom, so we can go back to the kiss alternatives later. Now it’s time for shirts off. C’mere.” 

Stiles pulls him close, rolls into him, slides hands up his chest, up his neck, buries them in his hair. Derek leans their foreheads together then slides to the side, skimming his nose down Stiles’s hairline, jaw, right into the crook of his neck. Hugs him so tight. 

“My name is Stiles Stilinski and I approve this message.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Dude, this can’t be a surprise to you. … Hey, uh, can I touch you tonight? Can it be my turn to touch? Are you … is that something you want tonight? Do I need, uh, rules or something first? Other than no kissing.” 

“ … It’s not just kisses. Keep your mouth off me. … I like it when you talk anyway.” 

“Ha! I’m never listening again when you tell me to shut up.” 

“Have you ever?” 

Stiles whispers into his neck, “So, can I? I’ve been dying to get my hands on you since you stretched out all my shirts while Danny was hacking phone records.” 

“Smelled Danny’s interest. _You_ smelled smug.” 

“Do I smell smug now?” 

“You smell _happy_.” 

“Because I am.” 

“ … You don’t smell like lust. Just happy.” 

“Pretty sure that’s gonna change about a second after you give me the green light.” Stiles hands are hovering over him. Not quite touching yet. He leans into the heat and Stiles groans. Ah, there’s the spike of scent. 

Stiles slips around to his back. Wraps arms around him. Hugs him from behind, arms just above his waist. Rubs his cheek into the tattoo while skimming palms up from his hips. Hooks them over his shoulders. Squeezes him. He untangles and places palms on Derek’s shoulder blades then skims them up his neck to bury fingers in Derek’s hair. Pushes Derek’s head forward then runs hands back down his neck, across his shoulders, down his arms. He laces their fingers together and then pulls their arms up in front of Derek’s chest in another hug. 

“Maybe you’re right about these hugs, Derek. There’s a lot of potential here. I think we can make it work.” He turns Derek around to look at him. “I’m gonna find a _million_ ways to hug you.” Derek’s heart races. He wants to touch too. Not his turn. Soon there’ll be give and take. But not tonight. 

He’s not sure what Stiles sees in his face. But Stiles grins and tips Derek’s neck to the side. Growls in Derek’s ear, “Can I put my mouth real close if I dry my lips and don’t touch?”

“I don’t know. … We can try if you want.”

“The list of things I want, Derek. So many things. But that’s for another day. Tonight, I just want to touch. I just want to touch you, feel you, put my hands all over, so if anyone gets close enough to sniff all they’ll smell is _me_. I want you to still feel the traces of my fingers on your skin when you fall asleep tonight. I want you to wake up missing the heat of my hands on your body.” 

It’s the sexiest thing Derek’s ever heard. He can’t hold in his moan. Doesn’t want to anyway. 

“Later we’ll talk. You’ll tell me all the things you want me to do to you with my hands. You’ll show me. You’ll take my hands and put them wherever you want. You’ll move your body against my hands. You’ll watch my hands move across your skin. You’ll _beg_ for the heat of my hands on you. Later.” 

“Yes.” 

“Tonight, though … tonight I meet you with my hands. I get to know your skin. I learn how you feel. Feel how you move. What you like. What you love. What you _need_.” 

“ _Need you_.” 

Stiles taps fingers across his collar bones, squeezes his pecs, smooths across his abs, drags lightly across his shoulders. Digs into his sides. A million kinds of touches across every inch of him. Down his cheekbones, up his neck, along the edge of his ear. He slips behind again and presses his bare chest to Derek’s back, yanks him close with an arm across his hips and another up across his chest. Stiles breathes words into the sensitive spot behind his ear. Drags dry lips down his spine. 

Derek’s knees buckle. But Stiles squeezes him tight until it passes. Then Stiles’s hands are at his belt. Waiting. 

“Yes.” 

Stiles unbuckles and unzips his jeans. Slips hands inside to skim down his legs as he pushes them off. Slides to his knees to slip them off his feet. Rubs hands up and down Derek’s bare legs. Traces the outline of his briefs.

He feels the heat of hands not quite touching his ass. He leans back into the grasp and hears Stiles groan as he squeezes and massages. Before anything can escalate, Stiles stands back up, sliding his hands up Derek’s sides. Stiles slips around to the front and pulls him close. Nuzzles into his neck. 

Stiles whispers into Derek’s skin a simple “thanks” before dragging him down into bed and wrapping himself around Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually do some pack stuff and some Sterek stuff in each chapter. But I kind of just want to do sexy times for a few chapters. We’ll see.
> 
> Also, I have family coming to visit tomorrow for 2+ weeks. I don’t know how much writing time/energy I’ll have. I’ll try, but …


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I ask? I mean we don’t _have to_ talk about it. But, I mean, I can ask, right? And then you can decide.”
> 
> “ … That’s usually how questions work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some more rainbow-unicorn-feelings word vomit. Also, I bumped the rating up to Mature.

When he wakes up, Stiles is still curled around him. Speaking quietly into the crook of his neck. “Can we stay in bed all day? Pleeeeeeeeease?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Last night was …” Stiles sighs happily. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I ask? I mean we don’t _have to_ talk about it. But, I mean, I can ask, right? And then you can decide.” 

“ … That’s usually how questions work.” 

“Ha ha. … Um, I just wondered … will you … can you … tell me why you don’t kiss? I just want to understand. But you don’t have to. _Of course_ you don’t have to. … But you can … if you want to.” 

Derek blows out a harsh breath and sits up. Still facing away from Stiles. He tries. “I don’t like … it’s _wet_ … just … the _mess_.” He shudders. 

“Oh. That’s … yeah. That’s … ” 

There’s more to tell him, of course. But not today. Things like Kate taking him captive and teasing him about their relationship. About claiming him with her mouth. When he was still in high school. And again later. Licking his stomach while he was chained up. About sex with Jennifer while he was still bleeding. And whether any of those choices were in his control. About too much time spent with his insides falling out. About too much time painted in his own blood. About how the problem progressed over time. About how even when he’s alone now, he only comes in the shower so it washes right away. 

“I’m sorry. I mean, it’s not … intolerable. Kissing. But I don’t like it. It’s … But we can … I can try … with you … we can try different … ” He sighs. “We can try.”

“Oh. But _why_?” 

“Why what?” He doesn’t want to explain about Kate and Jennifer. Maybe someday. But not now. He doesn’t want to talk about them in bed with Stiles. In their bed. 

“Why would we try something you know you’re not gonna like?” 

“ … You want to.” 

“Dude, I want to do a looooooot of things I’m never gonna get to do. Like hang gliding.* That shit looks fun as hell. But the broken bones do not. And I’m already a danger to myself on flat land. Plus, hot air balloons exist and also look fun and aren’t nearly as dangerous. So why not do that instead, right? ” 

“But … sex. Lube. Come. Spit. All of it. … I mean, none of it.” 

“Isn’t ‘sex’ a stupid word?” 

Derek turns around and stares at him, confused. He really can’t follow Stiles’s thoughts half the time.

“No one even agrees on what ‘sex’ _means_. Some people think it’s just intercourse that can lead to conception. Others say anal counts too. Because penetration. And because they know dudes have sex with each other and they can’t imagine ways that can happen other than someone sticking a dick _somewhere_ down there. But somehow they think the _only_ thing that can penetrate is a dick. Like fingers and tongues aren’t sexual. And dildos don’t even exist. Or like those two holes are all that can be penetrated. Like mouths aren’t there for penetration too.” 

Derek blushes violently and tries not to think of any of those things. Focuses on listening. Because Stiles is clearly on a roll. 

“Some agree oral sex is sex, as it says on the tin. I guess, like, they think only things that can give you an STI are sex. … Can werewolves get STIs? Or, more important, can they _give_ STIs? Inquiring minds want to know. … Anyway, some think anything that leads to orgasm is sex, so hand jobs would count. Of course usually with a hetero couple they really mean when the man comes because people are assholes and don’t give a shit about women’s pleasure. And somehow sex is just pointless if no one comes? Like it doesn't count as sex? Which would mean _lots_ of women aren't having sex but, you know, of course they are. People are fucking idiots.”

Derek just gapes at him. He’s not quite following. But he knows Stiles will get back on track. Eventually. 

“ … Aaaaaaaaaaanyway. My point is: There’s no actual consensus on what the term ‘sex’ even means. It’s certainly different in hetero and queer communities at a minimum. So why use the word at all? Why obsess about _doing it_? _It_ has nothing to do with _us_. I don’t care about _it_. I care about _you_. About _us_. … I can get myself off anytime, Derek. Been doing it for years by myself. Very often. _Lots_ of practice.” 

Derek can’t stop himself from rumbling a low growl at that. Stiles laughs. 

“Ok. _That_ is something we can definitely explore sometime.” Derek is punched by the scent of Stiles’s want, but he moves on. “My point is: I want _you_ more than I want _sex_. I need to be … I don't know ... close with you, I guess? I want to _know you_. Better than anyone else knows you. And we don’t have to have 'sex' for that.” 

“You do. You know you do. No one else knows me.” 

“Yeah, well, I also want to know you better than I know anyone else. And I want you to know me better than anyone else does.” 

“Better than Scott?” 

“ … Scott doesn’t always see me. He doesn’t always see _anyone_. He’s too … good. Too hopeful. But _you see me_. You know when I’m right or when I’m being an asshole.” 

“Both, usually.” 

“Yeah, or both. I want that closeness. With you. Whatever that means for us. However we get there.” 

“Me too.” 

“Ok. Good. Awesome. … So just be my person. Choose me. Know me. Touch me. However that looks physically. Whatever you want. However is good for you. The … the … I don’t know ... The boundaries of that are wherever you need them to be. Don’t do something because you think it’ll make me happy. Last night was fucking _perfect_. I’m _already_ happy with you. If I can have last night forever … ” 

Derek frowns. “You can’t mean … I know you _want_ … ”

“More? Do I want _more_ sometimes? Do I want to swallow you down wet and sloppy? Do I want to fuck your mouth with my fingers as we grind up against the wall? Do I want you to bend me over that table we haven’t even bought yet and pound me so hard I leave gouges in the wood just trying to hold on? Do I want to grip your hips so tight when I fuck you that I actually leave bruises? Do I want to rim you until you fucking wolf out and tear apart the sheets? Of course I _want_ you.” 

Derek groans at the obscene images in his mind. Stiles is going to be the death of him. He wants to want these things. For Stiles. For himself, even, on some level. They sound amazing ... if he doesn’t think about the details too closely. 

“I want lots of things, Derek. Like to see The Beatles in concert. Or for you to stop throwing yourself into danger all by yourself instead of relying on the pack. Or for Dad to stop ordering onion rings from the diner behind my back. … There are just some things it’s impossible for me to have. That's life. I’ve made peace with that, mostly. Like an actual real adult.” 

Derek shakes his head. He doesn’t understand how all of this connects in Stiles’s brain. 

“Look, the thing is: It doesn’t mean I’m unhappy _without_ those things. … I’m _happy_ with you, Derek. Just like this. Wherever we end up. Whatever that looks like. I’m happy with you. Stupidly, obnoxiously, deleriously fucking happy. The pack is going to be so annoyed with how happy I’ll be all the time.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Stiles. I love you so much,” Derek growls out. … Oh _shit_. He does. It’s not a lie. Didn’t mean to say it, though. Didn’t even know it was true until right now. Not in words, anyway. He’s never even _thought_ it before. _Holy shit_. 

Stiles just rolls his eyes, though. “Duh. Same.” He leans in close and gently rubs his cheek against Derek’s. 

“So if you decide you want to try something out because _you’re_ curious or want to test your boundaries or see if you like something now you didn’t used to like or whatever, I. am. down. I am so fucking down for like everything ever with you. But if you’re ever not having a good time, then I’m not gonna be having a good time either, dude. So let’s just agree to definitely not do stuff you hate. And to only do stuff you're not gonna like if _you_ really want to try it for some reason. Ok? And if we do something and you realize you want to stop, _you fucking tell me_ and we stop. Easy.” 

“ … Yeah, ok.” 

“ _Derek_.” 

“Yeah, fine. … Good.” 

“Good. Dude, we’re gonna have _so much fun_ figuring this shit out. I promise. This is gonna be way more fun than Republican sex.”

“Everything’s more fun than Republican sex.” 

“ _That’s the fucking truth_. Also very funny. But, seriously, _so true_. Can you imagine doing nothing but that boring missionary shit for like sixty years?” Stiles makes snoring sounds. 

Sixty years??? ... He grabs Stiles’s hands and squeezes. “ … Thank you.” 

“What? No. _Thank you_. For … trusting me with this. For wanting this with me. Whatever this is. … I … You know I … ” 

He leans in to whisper right into Stiles’s ear, making him shiver. “I know. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hang_gliding](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hang_gliding)
> 
> I feel like once you mention rimming, the rating automatically goes up? But I think this is still Mature and not Explicit. This story will probably never get to E. Sorry. Let me know if you disagree with the rating. 
> 
> Also, I can’t mention rimming without mentioning rimming for justice, a concept I learned from _How to Get Away with Murder_. It’s still [one of the best moments in network tv history](http://myhyperreality.com/2014/10/21/how-to-get-away-with-murder-and-gay-sex/). I mean, have I even seen that in a tv show at all since _Queer as Folk_? I don’t remember if they do in _Game of Thrones_ and I’m too angry at it to go back and find out.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s heading to check out when he sees it. Why did he come down this aisle? He hates it. It’s _hideous_. The worst. But it’s so _Stiles_.

“The pack’s coming over tonight, right? What do we need to do to get ready for that? It’s supposed to be a cooking night, but we haven’t trained in a while. So maybe like a half hour of practice first? What do you want to do? I suggest something not-sweaty before cooking because ewwwww.” 

“Silent tracking. Is everyone coming?” 

“I actually haven’t texted them yet because I didn’t know any details. And then I was distracted. What are you gonna make for dinner?” 

Derek shrugs. “Cold things.” 

“Ok. … So everyone can do something different instead of one main hot dish? Like potato salad and macaroni salad and green salad with grilled chicken and chicken salad? Like, picnic food?” 

“Yeah. Go shower. I’ll make coffee.” 

Stiles leers at him. “You could shower with me … ” 

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles gives him a side hug on his way out. 

Derek makes coffee and looks up some recipes for dinner. 

“Cereal ok?” 

“Totally. Who the hell cooks _twice_ in one day, dude?”

Derek doesn’t mention that some adults cook _three_ times a day. Instead he inventories the kitchen.

“We need groceries. And something for lunch.” 

“Oh, um, are you ok for lunch on your own today? I told Scott and Isaac I’d bring them food at Deaton’s later.” 

“Bribing them? It’s never happening. You know that.” 

“Ok, but what if we fostered a bunch of kittens? We’d bring them home for a few weeks and then we could do what we want!” 

“ _No pets_.” 

“Not even like temporary pets for a few weeks that we get to give back? They need to get used to people. It’s for a good cause.” 

“No.” 

“Is that a _Derek_ no or an _alpha_ no?” 

“Both. It’s a terrible idea.” 

“ … Yeah, ok. I know I can’t even keep houseplants alive. But how much _fun_ would kittens be on movie night! … And you’d remember to feed them when I forgot.” 

“No. Cats kill birds.* You have to keep them indoors. So they need a litter box. You know what that smells like to a wolf? The whole house would smell like litter. _Forever_.” 

Stiles sighs but nods. “You want me to bring lunch back for you?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll pick something up in town.” 

“You don’t need me to go with you to the grocery store later?” 

“No. It’s a short list.” 

“Ok. Maybe I’ll hang around after lunch, then. Possibly find some books to steal while Deaton’s not there.” Derek squints at him. “ ... I mean, perhaps I will linger awhile to carefully select a handful of important tomes to temporarily relocate to the pack domicile?” 

Derek rolls his eyes. They eat breakfast huddled up on the couch again before heading out at the same time. 

First: a move-in gift for Stiles. He wanders the aisles at Target. The lights are blinding. Too much perfume in the air. Awful music. Laughing teenagers. Screaming kids. He hopes he sees something soon so he can get the hell out. No luck so far. He does grab Stiles’s soap and shampoo. Even some awful Pop-Tarts. 

Those are temporary. They’ll get used up. It’s not enough. … He spots a frame for four pictures. Maybe he can print some. The pack texts him photos all the time. He scrolls through. Him and Stiles asleep on the couch. Him giving Stiles a piggyback ride. Them yelling at each other during practice. And he’ll leave space for a new one after Stiles moves in. It’s not much, but it seems _right_. 

He’s heading to check out when he sees it. Why did he have to come down this aisle? He hates it. It’s _hideous_. The worst. But it’s so _Stiles_. … He’s about to walk away anyway. Make himself forget its existence. But he caves. He buys the damn wolf-pack blanket and sheets.** Expects to regret this forever. 

He swings by the Sheriff’s station next. But Stiles’s father is out on a call. It’s a huge relief. He _tried_. 

At the grocery store, he keeps his head down. Avoids eye contact so no one talks to him. Or flirts. He gives the cashier a polite smile, like Stiles always tells him to. He hears the guy’s heartbeat speed up. Derek looks away. Decides not to find out whether it’s from lust or fear. He’s so ready to be _home_ already. People are exhausting. 

He stashes the hideous sheets in Boyd’s closet when he gets home. Stiles would never go in there. And Boyd won’t say anything in front of others if he finds it. 

An hour later, Stiles comes in. He stinks of antiseptic and small animals. It makes Derek’s eyes water. Stiles drops off a red plastic bag in the bedroom then tries to hug him when he comes back. He herds Stiles outside to air out first. They sit by the garden quietly for a while. 

“Someone told me a certain tall, dark, broody guy with perfect stubble was spotted at the station today.” 

“Who said … nevermind. I did. I tried. He wasn’t in.” 

“How _lucky_ for you. You get to live to see another day.” Derek frowns. “Duuuuuuude, that’s _so_ a joke. Seriously, Derek. It’s going to be a _totally_ nonviolent discussion. I promise. It’s not like he’s going to pull a shotgun on you and make you marry me. Dad doesn’t get to decide this kind of shit for me. Obviously. I think he just wants to know more about pack shit. Like me moving in means he has to take everything all seriously now or something. He doesn’t really get it. He just needs some reassurance. But _he likes you_. Remember that whole job offer thing that’s probably gonna happen?” 

“That’s why I didn't want to go. But I went. He wasn’t there.” He shrugs.

“Fine. Thanks for trying or whatever. ... Are we all set for tonight? I didn’t see a text with the details.” 

“No. I thought you would. … I don’t have their numbers.” 

“You don’t have the pack’s phone numbers?! That _can’t_ be right. You're on all the group texts. What the fuck, dude?” 

“No, idiot. Lydia, Danny, Allison.” 

“Oh, good. Because I was _seriously_ about to revoke your Alpha of the Year award for a second there.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and pokes Stiles in the ribs. 

“Quit it, asshole. I’m texting everyone about tonight right now, including you. Then I’m gonna show you how to save and label them in your contacts. … God, Derek. You’re such a fucking Luddite.*** You should skip being a deputy … though you’d look damn hot in the uniform … what was I … oh, you should skip that and make like artisanal mountain man furniture or something.” 

He pretends to snarl at Stiles, who just laughs and pinches his cheeks. Their phones buzz. “Oh. Uh, looks like Team Human’s going to the shooting range. Guess it’s just a pack night tonight.”

“You want to go?” 

“Shooting? With them? Uhhhhhh … I could, I guess. But then I miss dinner with the pack.” 

“They’re back again in two days.” 

“ … You want me to go. Why do you want me to go?” 

“You need practice.” Stiles huffs at him but doesn’t argue. “ … Go so the pack can talk. About you moving in. It’s good timing. You should go.” 

Stiles blows out a breath. “Yeah, ok. You can _keep_ your alpha award, I guess.” 

Tracking goes well that night. There’s a lot of unnecessary elbow-throwing, though. They’re too amped up to be quiet. Everyone seems anxious to get back to more violent training. He’s sure Stiles will be thrilled. 

Preparing dinner is only a minor disaster. Isaac is boosted on Scott’s shoulder to scrape some stray chicken off the ceiling. Derek's not sure he can teach them to cook. It’s taking longer to clean up than it did to make _and_ eat the food. How have they survived this long? Chinese take-out, Pop-Tarts, and pizza? The thought makes his stomach ache. 

Before everyone leaves, Erica asks why Stiles hasn’t moved in yet. Scott gives her a weird look, but he already knows Scott's ok with it. And no one seems upset. Boyd just nudges his shoulder. That’s it, then. It’s happening. He gruffly tells them to be back Friday and pushes them out the door. It clicks closed behind them and he slides down to sit against it. 

Stiles shows up later smelling of gunpowder and Red Bull. Derek makes him shower it off before letting him pick at the leftovers, which he declares “sufficiently edible. Well, except for the chicken salad. What the fuck happened to that, dude? Whatever. We’ll just drown it in buffalo sauce. It’ll be fine.” 

Stiles leaves the light on as they crawl into bed. Then Derek sees why. There’s a fucking lacrosse trophy on Derek’s pillow. It says: Most Improved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [theoatmeal.com/comics/cats_actually_kill](http://theoatmeal.com/comics/cats_actually_kill)
> 
> ** Wolf pack bedding set ([click for larger view](http://i68.tinypic.com/kd4d4h.jpg)):
> 
> *** [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luddite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luddite)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s so annoying when you call me ‘dude.’”
> 
> “One: why? Two: that’s totally not what you actually want to tell me really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m writing as much as I can before I start drowning in family time.

Derek can’t stand it. His skin itches. Long runs only help a little. It’s killing him. Not asking is ARGH. He just … he needs … Why won’t Stiles move in already?! He’s embarrassed. Doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to push. Doesn’t want to seem desperate. But he is. 

“Yo. You ok, dude?”

“Yeah.” 

“ _Lie_.” 

“It’s fine, Stiles.” He fails to keep it from coming out as a sigh. 

“Dude, I thought we were doing better than this. I thought things were … good? And we were doing ok with the whole words thing? That’s totally a thing that was happening. With us.” 

“I can’t … I just … ” He whispers, “I don’t want to be pushy.” 

“Uh, that would actually be a first, kind of. I mean, outside of battle or practice, Mr. Alpha. Or while cooking, but that’s good or like nothing would be edible ever. … Just say it, dude.” 

He lets a growl slip out. “It’s so annoying when you call me ‘dude.’” 

“One: why? Two: that’s totally not what you actually want to tell me really.” 

“It’s … it sounds cold? Like I’m just … anyone.” 

“Oh. my. god. How are you this adorable?! Do you want a _pet name_ , Derek? That is … holy shit … maybe the cutest thing ever in the history of everyone who has ever existed.” 

“ _Please_ do not give me a dumb pet name.” 

“Make up your mind, dude.” 

“Nevermind.” He huffs and turns away. 

“Don’t you ‘nevermind’ me. Just _tell me_ , Derek. … Please? … It feels kinda fucking awful that you think you can’t trust me with something. … Like, what am I doing wrong to make you feel like you can’t tell me shit?” 

“That’s not it. You know that’s not … I tell you everything …” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. Fair enough. Derek clenches his fists and spits out, “Did you change your mind?” 

“ … About what?” 

“Moving in.” 

“Wh- _huh_?”

“Are you moving in? _When_ are you moving in?” He hates how small he sounds. 

“Uh, I kinda already did? I mean, I’m here every night. Every morning. For meals. _I already live here_ , Derek.” 

“Where’s all your stuff?” 

“Stuff?” 

“You still have all your things at the apartment. You haven’t moved in. You just stay here. It’s not the same.” 

“Not really, actually. My clothes were pretty much here already and I left a little there just in case I ever need to crash at Scott’s. You know our game nights can be epic … Not the point. Sorry. … I brought my _Star Wars_ poster over, Derek. That was me moving in. Home is where I hang my _Star Wars_ poster. I’m sorry you … I just thought it was obvious?” 

“ … You didn’t actually hang it.”

“Were you seriously planning to trust _me_ with a hammer?” 

“No! No, I’ll do it. Where do you want it?” 

“I don’t care, dude. As long as it’s _here_. Well, not here in the bedroom. Here in our house. Somewhere everyone can see it. I’m planting my flag. So it needs to be where everyone can see it. … And I mean that literally, not as a euphemism.” 

“I figured. Your sex talk _is_ actually better than that.” 

“And yours is _nonexistent_.” 

“Oh. … Sorry?” 

“No, man. Not a complaint. I’m just picking on you.” 

“Stiles … I’m … I’m not good at talking about sex. … I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it. With anyone. I don’t know how.” 

“What? Everyone was just like sex gods and knew exactly what to do for you, how you liked it? That’s … wow. I _cannot_ live up to that. I’m gonna need like landing instructions. Semaphore* or something. I mean, I’ll try. Of course I’ll try to make it awesome. But … wow. That’s like … how?!” 

Stiles is staring at the wall with a small frown. He takes it all so seriously. Like Derek’s happiness is all that matters. It’s … Derek’s so much _work_. It’s supposed to be fun. Easier than this.

“No, that’s not what … I don’t think they cared enough to ask.”

“Fuck. Seriously? _Fuck_. That’s … Derek … you deserve so much better than that. That’s _awful_. And they just, like, did whatever they wanted and didn’t notice if you didn’t like it? They must have done things you didn’t like. Did they kiss you even though you hate it? Assholes!” 

Derek swallows hard and clenches his teeth. Not sure he wants to do this right now. 

“Hey. No. It’s ok. We don’t have to … That’s enough. That’s a lot. Thank you for telling me.” 

“ … But I didn’t.” 

“You did, Derek. You told me you were upset because you thought I wasn’t moving in with you. And you told me that you had bad sex because none of your partners tried to make it good for you. That’s a lot already.” 

“ … What about you?” 

“Huh?” 

“With other people. How was it?” 

“It was ok. Nothing special. Lots of trial and error. And, you know, lots of feedback. Because you know I can never shut up. I think maybe I liked figuring it all out, trying it all, more than the actual sex I had? None of them were particularly experienced. We got off. But it wasn't _great_. We were just fumbling in the dark together. Not literally, though. I like the lights on.” 

He winks at Derek. And now all he can think of is Stiles laid out naked in his bed. _Their_ bed. In the full light. He can see well enough in the dark. But in the bright light he’d be able to see everything. Touch everywhere. Watch every little reaction. The jolt of want almost makes him stumble.

“Seriously? That’s what does it for you? Well, I’m down. If you ever want to … be in bed with the lights on.” 

He grabs Stiles hands and drags him to the bedroom. He gets happy laughter instead of lust in response. He can fix that. 

He strips all his own clothes off quickly. Stiles just stands there, bottom lip sucked into his mouth. Maybe a little stunned. Derek stalks over and runs his nose down that long neck before removing Stiles’s clothes. Slowly. The only sound is their breath hitching and the swish of fabric. Then they’re both standing there. Naked together for the first time. 

They both stare, gazes jumping around unable to decide what they most want to see. He walks close then past Stiles to see him from behind. _God_. 

“Perfect,” he breathes out. 

“My turn. _Turn_.” He faces away from Stiles, who steps close. Exhales sharply into his tattoo and down, face now inches from his ass, breath hot on his skin. It’s too much and not enough. He has no idea what he wants, but not seeing Stiles isn’t it. He turns around and pushes Stiles gently toward the bed. 

Stiles grins at him and throws himself down, sprawls out on his back. Waits for Derek to make a move. All he can do is look for a long minute. Stiles gets impatient and starts running hands across his own skin. One tugging at his hair, the other rubbing lazily down his chest. Down, down.

Derek nods at him and stands there at the foot of the bed. Waiting. Watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flag_semaphore](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flag_semaphore)
> 
> Have you read this fic yet? It’s freaking adorable: [The One Where They Adopt a Selkie ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5207093) by [mikkimouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse)


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’re an exhibitionist?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter's ok if it’s kinda porny, right? ;)

“You smell good. Like … happiness. And excitement. Curiosity. Lust. Aren’t you … you’re not nervous doing this?” 

“ _Nervous_? About _jerking off_? No way. I’ve been doing this for years. I’m pretty damn great at it by now. Totally playing expert mode here.” Stiles gives him a lazy grin. 

“Even with me? … How? … _I’m_ nervous.” 

“Yeah? Want me to stop?” He stills his hand for a second. 

“ _No_. Just … ” 

“Don’t be nervous with me. You don’t have to _do anything_. You can just stand there. Just getting to look at you like this is amazing. Perfect.” 

“Exhibitionist?” 

“No. No, it’s not about showing off or anything. It’s about … uh, I don’t know … just, like, _sharing_ this with you. Sharing _me_ with you. This is something I love doing. And I’m gonna love it even more like this. _With you_. … If you’re ok with it?” 

“I … _yes_.”

“Want to come over here? You can sit over there on the bed with me.” 

He sits on a corner, one leg folded up under him. A foot on the floor. If he reached out, he could just barely brush a finger against Stiles’s leg. He doesn’t. 

Stiles is surprisingly quiet. He doesn’t run his mouth. Just breathes heavily, mouth dropped open. Not even a moan so far. He strokes himself slowly, smiling at Derek. Clearly not in a hurry. He says very quietly, “You don’t have to do anything. I mean that. But you can if you want. Totally up to you. Touch me if you want. Anywhere you want. We could even hold hands. You can touch yourself too. Or not. Anything you want.” 

Stiles stretches his leg a couple inches closer to him. Raises an eyebrow. Not a demand, just an invitation. Derek reaches out. Lays a hand on Stiles’s ankle, squeezes. Stiles moans at the contact. Speeds up. His scent is overwhelming now. Derek wants to roll around in it. He might later. Their bed is going to smell so good for _days_. 

He slides his hand up and down Stiles’s leg. Stiles moans louder and arches his back, hand moving faster now. His long neck is tensed, eyes slipping shut. 

“Deeeeeeeerek. Ungh. Gonna get aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh messy ah ah ah ah ah sooooon. _Fuuuuuuuuuuck_.” 

Stiles’s eyes are squeezed shut. He’s dragging in shallow breaths, beyond words. Derek leans forward, closing his eyes, gripping Stiles’s ankle and burying his nose behind Stiles’s knee. He shuts out everything but the scent and the sound of skin on skin and Stiles’s breathy sighs. 

The scent begins to roll over him, filling the whole room. Stiles buries a hand in Derek’s hair as he tenses everywhere and comes.

“Fuck. _Holy fuck_ , Derek. Don’t look. I’m a mess. Holy shit. I … uh … you wanna throw me a towel or something? I shoulda planned better. Sorry. I know you don’t want to see.” 

“No.” 

“No? No, you do want to see it? It doesn’t look like you’re looking.” 

He doesn’t open his eyes. Just runs his nose up the inside of Stiles’s thigh.

“Oh, hooooooooly shit.” 

“Rub it in.” 

“ … Huh?” 

“Rub it into your skin. I’ll get you a towel. But rub it in first. Your stomach. Chest. Neck. _Please_.” 

Derek turns away before opening his eyes. Throws the towel at the bed without looking. Listens to it rasp across Stiles’s skin. 

“Ok. I think I’m dry.” 

“Put your boxers back on.”

“ … Sure.”

“Just … ” He crawls onto the bed, over Stiles. Buries his face in his scent-covered stomach. Rubs a cheek up his chest to nuzzle his neck. 

He feels Stiles twitch and release another damp burst of scent. “Ungh. _Fuck_. Yeah, ok. That’s why. Good plan. Good call. Fuuuuck.” 

He closes his eyes and rubs thumbs under the legs of Stiles’s boxers and brings his face down close to the fabric. Inhales just an inch from the new wet spot. He wonders suddenly what Stiles tastes like. Would he taste as good as he smells? It makes him a little sad for a moment but it passes. _This_ is good. This is … amazing. 

He puts a hand on Stiles chest, holding him still. “Don’t move.” He crawls off the bed and puts his own boxers back on then crawls back up Stiles’s body. Lies down on top of him, straddling Stiles’s leg. “This ok?” 

“ _Fuck yes_.” 

Derek rubs against him for a minute, hoping his own skin is soaking up the scent. He grinds against Stiles’s hip until he can’t stand it anymore, then takes a deep breath and rolls away. 

“This was incredible, Derek. So fucking perfect. Oh my god.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah. … Nap?”

Derek curls up with his ear over Stiles’s heart. Listens as his breathing slows and he falls asleep. Derek lies there, wrapped up in Stiles’s heat and scent. He can’t imagine being any happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, yeah. So ... I have no idea how to write sex. I think the rating is still ok at Mature, right?


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Seriously, Derek? I’m a human who runs with wolves. Literally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters > no chapters ???

“I’m staaaaaaaarving, dude. Pizza?” 

“How are you not fat?”

“Seriously, Derek? I am a human who runs with wolves. Literally. Plus I have frequent, vigorous, and occasionally acrobatic sex. With myself.” Stiles winks at him.

Derek hangs his head. “Vegetable pizza at least?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes and places the order. Adds breadsticks for spite. “It’s adorable that you’re worried about my possible malnutrition. Really.” 

“I’m making you grilled fish and vegetables for dinner.” 

“Do brownies go with stir fry?” 

“Do you really care?” 

“Yeah, no. Brownies it is!” 

“Or brownies _Saturday._ For the pack.” 

“But what about dessert _tonight_?”

“Fruit salad. _Do. not. argue_.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a growl. 

Stiles shivers. “ … Fuuuuuuuck, you’re hot when you’re forceful. I think I like it when you order me around at home. … You know, I even kind of miss you pushing me up against walls. Wanna try some of that again right now?”

“No time. Things to do today.” 

“But the pizza’s not even here yet.” Stiles runs a hand down his bare chest. Hooks his thumb in the waistband of his boxers. Derek can’t tell if he’s tugging them down on purpose or if it’s just an accident. They slip down enough that they’re not quite decent. Derek has to close his eyes to shut out the sight of the patch of hair curling up over the edge.

“Get dressed. We haven’t planned training yet.” 

“Noooooooo. I definitely need to refuel _before_ we fight, dude.”

They eat tangled up on the couch, as usual. When they’re done, Stiles declares he needs to digest before they argue. He turns on the tv before Derek can object. 

“Cold,” Stiles pouts. 

“Even with me here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“ … How?” Derek won’t get a better chance than this. He slips out from behind Stiles and into Boyd’s room. He walks back with his hands behind his back. Stiles squints at him. 

“I have … You moved in. And you’re cold.” 

“You giving me control of the thermostat now? Awe.some. Because it’s cold as fuck in here like _all the time_.” 

“Don’t want sweaty werewolves on my new couches.” 

“Ew. Valid. But they’re not here now and I’m still cold.” 

“This will help.” 

“You got me something? … For moving in.” He nods at Stiles. “That’s so sweet. … Or is this a trick? It’s not an eviction notice, right? You can’t possibly be sick of me already.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and hands it over. Stiles just blinks at it. He looks up at Derek, back down, up, down. His mouth is hanging open. It looks like he’s trying to form words, but no sound comes out at first. 

“You got me a moving-in gift.” Derek nods. “And it’s sheets and a blanket.” Nod. “… With _wolves_ on them.” Derek hunches over, embarrassed. Did he pick wrong? “Oh my god. It’s _hideous_.” Shit. “This is … oh my god, Derek. … This is fucking _awesome!_ … Holy crap. Wow.” Stiles laughs. “Whoa, you must _hate_ it.” 

Derek shrugs. “You love it.”

“ _Hells yeah_ I do. You’re … This is so … I can’t _believe_ … Holy shit, dude. I might have to start calling you ‘sweetie.’” Derek scowls. “Would you rather be ‘dude’ or ‘sweetie’?” 

“ _No_.” 

“One: that’s rude. Two: ‘no’ is not an acceptable answer to an either/or question. Three: … we’ll see, _sweetie_.” 

Derek growls at him. Stiles ignores it and starts pulling everything out of the bag. His grin is so big it looks like it hurts. 

“Duuuuuude. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen. … Can we … We should _definitely_ … I mean, you don’t want to use this in _our_ room, right? Because this would be _perfect_ for guests who stay on the couch. OMG, Scott will _love_ it. … I mean, I know you bought it for _me_. But you also hate it. So that works, right? And, like, when we’re just hanging out on the couch, it’ll be the perfect blanket. So, this is like the living room blanket now, yeah? Oh my god, this is amazing.” 

Stiles wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cape and launches himself at Derek. He barely catches him. Turns them around and lets them fall backward onto the couch. Stiles hums quietly as he rubs his cheek gently against Derek’s beard, skims his nose down his neck, nuzzles into his shoulder, squeezes Derek’s hips with his knees. 

“Not cold anymore?” 

“Mmmmmmm. You know what would really warm me up?” Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “They say that when you have hypothermia, skin-on-skin contact is best.” 

“It’s 68 in here.”

“Better safe than sorry, right?” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Yeah, well, now I’m ridiculous _and shirtless_. Get with the program, _sweetie_.” 

“Yes, _dear_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super _hot_ fic rec: [LUST (Love & Unresolved Sexual Tension)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2221239) by [theroguesgambit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theroguesgambit/pseuds/theroguesgambit)


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe you got me this hideous thing. … I, uh, bought you something too. Bought us something. A very different kind of moving in present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this idea for another fic I want to write soon. Because it’s [Trans Awareness Week](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_Awareness_Week) (though really all month). Anyway, Allison is trans and that’s why she stopped training for the Olympics and why her mom didn’t want her dating in high school and maybe even why they move so much. If I get more concrete inspiration for that, I might put this on pause for a while. And I need to get back to Beacon Hell eventually! But LB is consuming my brain, so I’m rolling with it for now.
> 
>  _ETA:_ Ok. I did it. Sort of. I wrote a ficlet: [Allison Knows She’s Lucky (Trans Awareness Week/TDOR)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5253587) (522 words)

Later in the week, they’re watching tv on the couch and Stiles drags the wolf blanket over them. Stiles whispers in his ear, “I can’t believe you got me this hideous thing. … I, uh, bought you something too. Bought _us_ something. A very different kind of moving in present.” Stiles winks at him. 

“The other day? The red bag?” 

Stiles nods. “Red bag full of _goodies_.” 

Derek just waits. Because he has no clue what’s going on here. 

“Do you want to see? Because I’m gonna spoil the surprise right now: It’s sex stuff.” 

Derek’s eyes go wide. 

“Chill. You don’t have to do anything with it. Ever, if you don’t want. I just wanted us to have options in case you’re interested.” 

“Later, maybe?” 

“Yeah, of course. No rush. I meant it when I said I’m already happy, Derek.” 

Derek nods. “Me too. … I was thinking … summer’s almost over.” 

“Shit. Yeah. We should do another BBQ before people head back to school.” 

“Yeah. … House will be empty again.” 

“Nah, I don’t think it’ll be that different. I bet they’ll come home almost every weekend now. Well, the pack anyway. Everyone’s way closer than before. And they have something great to come home to now. Somewhere to stay.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah. Sorry, I think you’re stuck with Saturday morning cartoons.” 

Derek smiles at that. He doesn’t like the cartoons, and how _loud_ everyone is so early in the morning. But it’s worth it to have everyone there. “It’ll be so quiet during the week. But weekends will be nice.” 

“Whoa. Taking me for granted so soon? Already learning to tune me out? Because I don’t think anyone anywhere ever in my lifetime would call me quiet.” 

Derek just stares at him. “But you have an apartment. With Scott. It’s an hour closer to school.” 

Stiles moves to the other end of the couch. “Are you shitting me right now, Derek Hale? _I moved in_. Not just … How can you … Did you _really_ think that was _just for the summer_? What the fuck?! … Or … Oh. Do you not still _want_ me here?” 

“ _Stiles_. You know I want you here.” 

“ … But you really thought I was going back?” 

“Long drive.” 

“Danny worked his magic to make sure I got into Monday, Tuesday, Thursday classes. If it’s bad sometimes, I’ll just crash with Scott on Monday nights. But the rest of the time, I’m here. _I’m here_.” 

“When’s the lease up? How can Scott afford it? Does he need … I can give him some money for rent?”

“Allison and I are splitting my part of the rent through summer. And I have some ideas for fall and beyond. … Like, do you think maybe Isaac wants to move in? It’s time to sell his dad’s house, don’t you think? Past time, really. It’s just been sitting there for years. I think he just didn’t want to deal with it. Not without, uh, support? But he has us now. Erica and Boyd have been checking on the house every once in a while. I don’t think Isaac ever wants to go back.” 

Derek can understand that feeling. 

“Did you know he’s just been living with Melissa this whole time? Sometimes he’d crash with Erica and Boyd. Sometimes with me and Scott. But I think she’d love to have the house to herself finally. And I think he kind of feels like a burden still sometimes. Plus, Scott’ll be lonely without me there. And they’re already close. They work together at Deaton’s a lot. … I think Isaac likes Scott best anyway. I mean, out of the betas.” 

Derek nods. That makes sense. That makes a lot of sense. He never would have thought of it though. He’s never even wondered where the pack lives. Shit, he needs to pay more attention to these things. 

“Soooooo, he could sell the house and be pretty much set for rent forever. I mean, especially if he moves in here someday? Though if everyone’s going to actually live together long-term, don’t you think we’ll need a bigger house? And more land. And soundproofing.” Stiles winks at him. They both blush. “Or maybe like a big ranch with a pack house for you and me and smaller houses for the other families in the pack? We need to make sure there’s room to grow and … ” 

Derek cuts him off with a kiss. He thinks it’s the only thing big enough to make Stiles understand. The only thing big enough for the feeling. He still doesn’t like it. He still doesn’t want it for himself. Would rather have a bone-crushing hug. But this isn’t for him. This is for Stiles. For this man who has envisioned a whole future for his pack and is actually making it happen. It’s a bruising smash of their lips together. And Stiles doesn’t push it. Doesn’t open his mouth and try to make it something else. He just lets Derek hold their lips together, digging hands in Stiles’s hair. Lets him do what he wants and grins at him when Derek leans back and wipes his mouth with a laugh. Neither of them say anything for a minute. Just lean against each other. Happy. 

“Aaaaaaaanyway, that should be enough money for rent and whatever else Isaac wants to do. Maybe vet tech school or whatever? I don’t know how that works. Whatever he needs for certification or whatever. Because he’s still _so_ not interested in college. Awwwww, can you imagine Scott taking over the practice from Deaton and running it with Isaac! It would just … c’mon, it’d be adorable, right?” 

“I think they’d like that. I can talk to them about it. … I can’t believe you’re _staying_.” 

“Sometimes you’re such a fucking idiot.” He says it into the skin at Derek’s neck, though. 

“ _Your_ idiot.” 

“ _Oh my god_.” 

“ … Sorry.” 

“What? No! It’s … No, it’s _awesome_ , Derek. I just … It still _surprises_ me. Like, all of it. _Talkative_ Derek surprises me. Especially about feeeeeeeeelings. And sometimes I just can’t even believe all this is _real_. I mean, the moving into the pack house is fine. That makes sense. But you … I always _hoped_ , of course … And I knew you _cared_. But I didn’t think … I couldn’t let myself believe …” Stiles lets out a long breath. “It’s just amazing that I’m lucky enough to have you. With our histories. With you being you and me being me. And our fucking luck in general. … It’s just … The odds these two assholes would ever get our shit together, you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m not completely used to it being real. And definitely not you saying _fucking sappy_ things to me. But … I mean … _Don’t stop_. Don’t … just don’t fucking stop. Because I know I’m a dick about it but it’s … I’m _not_ making fun. I’m just surprised. But _good_ surprised. _Happy_ surprised. It feels like a fucking miracle when you look at me with your damn heart eyes. Every time.”

“That’s good. Because you know I … _so much_.” 

“Fucking same, Derek. Like, oh my god.” 

He smiles into Stiles’s temple. “ … You want to show me our present now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking about doing a series of chapters that are just them negotiating and experimenting with physical intimacy. I dunno. That might end up being too boring? I just think I’m gonna be too busy to do the pack storytelling and such for a while. Not decided yet. Just, you know, a thing I’m considering.
> 
> OTOH, I just went back and reread the story, and the list of things I want to follow up on is _really fucking long_.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles unloads the bag slowly, naming each thing as he sets it on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have an awkward scene about sex! It’s also not well proofread because I have a fucking headache. Sorry?
> 
> Also, I wrote that thing I mentioned last chapter. Here's a trans Allison ficlet: [Allison Knows She’s Lucky (Trans Awareness Week/TDOR)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5253587).

“Yeah, of course. I’ll just get the red sex-bag from our bedroom. Be right back!” Stiles says, sliding off Derek’s lap. Derek’s still getting used to thinking of it as officially _their_ bedroom. Stiles unloads the bag slowly, naming each thing as he sets it on the table. 

“Unlubricated condoms. So, uh, nothing slimy when putting it on. Water-based lube. For me, obviously, since you hate it. Though we can, uh, work on that with some of the other things. Like medical gloves. In case you don’t actually hate lube if it doesn’t touch your skin? I mean, you might still hate it. But if you ever want to try, you know, dry condom plus gloves plus lube?” He mimes jerking off. “And they’re, uh, useful for other … messy things too … yeah.” He blushes, punching out his hand with three fingers out like a sideways Boy Scout salute.* 

“Dental dams. That’s kinda the same idea as the gloves, really. But for spit … if we wanna try … ” Stiles blushes and waves a hand in the general area of his ass. “And this dam is even black to match your wardrobe! It also supposedly tastes like cola? So there’s that.** … I hope it’s more like Coke and not like RC or shit. … They have other flavors too. So if we like that, I can try all the flavors! … Right, moving on.” 

“A dildo. For, uh, me. Because I don’t see how that would … for you … without lube, I mean. Like, I just don’t see how that could work. But, of course, if you ever want to … we could buy you one. We’re not gonna share, obviously. But I don’t think you want … So, um, anyway … Two harnesses for the dildo if you ever want to help me use it. Well you could help me use it with the gloves too. But, like for hands-free or whatever? One for uh, the normal place.” He waves a hand around his crotch. “The other is for, like, your leg if that positioning is better or if you just don’t want the harness next to your junk or whatever.” 

“Masturbation sleeve. So you don’t have to touch wet stuff. Maybe by itself or maybe that _and_ the gloves? In case you want to lend me a hand? I dunno … Unscented baby wipes. They’re awesome for quick and easy cleanup. And maybe you just want another pack of them around anyway for wiping off other shit that grosses you out? Like, you could even keep a travel-size pack in your pocket during practice, maybe? I dunno. Whatever."

“Finally, toy cleaner. Not fun but _totally_ necessary. So … I mean, there’s _a lot_ of sex shit out there to try. And I’m down for pretty much whatever. Like, no bloodplay, but I figure that’s not your thing anyway. And no, uh, toilet-related activities." They both shudder. "But there really is a never-ending list of things we can buy and try out. _So_ many. So hard to choose. But, uh, this seemed like a good starter kit at least?” 

Derek just stares at the table. He can’t even focus on any particular item. It’s all so … There’s _so much_. He can’t even imagine using them right now. But Stiles clearly has enough imagination for both of them. This sex plan is detailed and thorough and _excessive_ and creative and thoughtful … It’s all just … It’s all _so Stiles._  

“Right. So these, uh, exist. In our house. Available for use … And we can talk about this now if you want. Or I can just put them away. For later. Or forever. Well, I mean, not _forever_. I’m _definitely_ gonna use some of this stuff myself, whether you’re there for it or not. ... I think we need an extra nightstand for our bedroom, actually. I don't have one on my side and I need somewhere to keep all this shit.”

Derek just laughs. A whole piece of furniture to hold sex toys? It’s … That's definitely Stiles. 

“Also, uh, I have some questions? For you? Like, just whenever you’re ok to talk about this kind of stuff. You know, if … just whenever. And you don’t have to answer. … Obviously.” 

“ … Questions?” 

“Just some clarification of parameters?” 

“Sexy.”

“ _I know_ , right? But it’s like a few minutes of awkward so that things can be awesome later, I hope. Or at least less stressful later? Less likely to make you cringe in the middle of sexy fun times? And we’re super used to awkward conversations by now, right? I mean, this whole thing so far has been one long, awkward conversation. Well, not conversation, really. One loooooong, awkward monologue. ... If I ever write a memoir, that’s totally gonna be the title: _One Long Awkward Monologue_.” 

“Ok.” 

“Yeah? You like the title?” Derek just raises an eyebrow and waits. “Oh, you mean … Yeah? Ok. Cool. Ok. So, um … yeah, this conversation totally isn’t sexy. But, like, _what is sexy_? For you. … Is anything sexy? I, um, there was that whole popping claws thing before? So I assume some things … But, uh, I didn’t notice last night if you were … I mean ... Last night I was super distracted with my own dick like whoa. Sorry. Uh, do you see things … think of things … whatever … and get hard or anything?” 

“Yes. Last night, definitely. So much. And … your _hands_. Sometimes I have to look away. And your voice. Your _ass_. And your _neck_.” Stiles runs a hand down the side of his neck and Derek groans.

“And what do you do? Do you just ignore it? Or do you do something about it?” 

“Yeah, I … _Not like you_. Not _all the time_. … Not ... not every day. But I … in the shower. Yeah. Sometimes.”

Stiles groans. “ … Can I watch? In the shower?” Derek’s breath hitches. It feels like his whole body flushes. “ … Maybe I can even _help_ sometime? And then you wouldn’t even have to touch the mess before it’s gone.” 

Derek nods. “And I liked watching. Hearing you. Not the shower. Don’t want your scent to wash away. I want to smell it. _All the time_. … Best thing I’ve _ever_ smelled.” He can’t help the the happy hum that slips out. 

“And what if I smelled like … you? We could find a way, maybe, sometime? … ” Stiles groans and presses a palm to his crotch. “Oh my god, Derek. I need to … I’m _so_ hard right now just talking about this. I was so, so, so, so wrong. It’s awkward _and_ sexy. ... I think I need to ... and come back to this conversation ... after I … ” 

“Yes,” he growls, embarrassed.

“You want to watch me again?” Derek blushes but nods. “You want to help me get undressed or you wanna be hands-off today?” 

“Just watch.” 

“Mmmmmm.” Stiles grins and sweeps everything back into the bag. Derek follows him to the bedroom, lays a towel on the bed for him.

Stiles starts from the bottom. Strips off his socks, belt, pants, boxers. The flannel shirt goes next. He’s left in a T-shirt and nothing else. It’s … the sexiest … the most _obscene_ thing he’s ever seen. He wants to touch. Wants to bend him over the bed and knead his ass. Bury his face in it. Run his nose down to Stiles’s balls. Smell him at his most potent. _Fuck_. 

Stiles is smirking at him. As though he can tell everything Derek wants to do to him. Derek can’t resist walking over and grabbing Stiles’s ass then skimming hands up under the shirt to lift it off. Stiles tilts his head to the side and lets Derek sniff his neck before walking over to sit on the towel. 

Derek strips too and stands next to the bed so Stiles can see how much he’s affected. A low rumble starts in Derek's chest when Stiles grabs his hand and sighs his name as he comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scout_sign_and_salute](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scout_sign_and_salute)  
> I don’t know how I feel about the Boy Scouts. I mean, they finally fucking changed their discriminatory policy that used to ban gay scouts and adult troop leaders. But only sort of. Last I heard the official policy was to give troops the autonomy to decide for themselves who’s allowed in. And that’s less than ideal. The Girl Scouts, on the other hand, have been awesomely inclusive with lesbian and trans folk for a long time.
> 
> ** [glydehealth.com/products/sheer-glyde-dams/](http://glydehealth.com/products/sheer-glyde-dams/)
> 
>  
> 
> Oops. Forgot to add a fic rec last chapter. So here are two!
> 
> I am ridiculously in love with this fic: Not Quite Lost (Not Quite Found) by [alocalband](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alocalband/pseuds/alocalband)
> 
> This adorable fic is from one of my all-time fave writers: [One Dollar Yoda](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4797854) by [exclamation](http://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/)
> 
> Feel free to share your own fic recs in the comments!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles yells at everyone to “stop fucking moping already, geez; can’t we just enjoy the last few fucking weeks of summer?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, overdosing on family time. And we're only like halfway through The Month of Dad. I miss having time and energy and inspiration to write. :'(

The end of summer … _sucks_. With his usual tact, Stiles yells for everyone to “stop fucking moping already, geez; can’t we just enjoy our last fucking few weeks together?!” It’s exactly as effective as Derek guessed it would be.

It’s little things. _Stupid_ things, really. Things that would’ve been funny a month earlier. Erica’s pissy because she got caught using her claws to cheat at Jenga, so Stiles put her on clean-up duty every day until school starts back. Isaac is mad at the deer for eating his whole crop of tomatoes. Lydia’s annoyed they _still_ haven’t fixed the one wobbly picnic table. It snowballs from there and now no one but the pack shows up anymore. 

At least the latest unsupervised attempt at spaghetti and meatballs was a success. And Boyd’s still chill, obviously. Derek figures he’ll take the small victories. 

Especially since Scott is walking around under a raincloud. Derek’s not sure if it’s because Allison is leaving soon or if he wishes she were gone already. Maybe Scott doesn’t know which it is either. Derek’s not going to ask Scott. And Stiles won’t tell him because “it falls under bro-code shit, dude.” It will all work itself out soon enough. Probably. 

Right now, Stiles is sprawled out on the bed, working on … well, Derek has no idea what. The pack had a grueling practice today and Derek’s fresh out of the shower while the others work off their excess energy with more sparring. And piggyback races. _Ridiculous_. 

He needs clean clothes, but Stiles looks deep into whatever he’s working on. He has this thinking face on, a pencil behind one ear, pen behind the other, and he’s bouncing an eraser against his jaw. 

Derek doesn’t want to interrupt. He walks in quietly, grabbing the clothes he’d forgotten on the dresser and turning to walk back out. But before he gets out the door, something hits him on the ass then drops to the ground. He rolls his eyes and tosses the highlighter back to Stiles. 

“You feeling nostalgic, Mr. Big Bad Wolf? You gonna start creeping in through the bedroom window for old times’ sake? It’s not quite the same when it’s your own bedroom, you know. But we can pretend.” Stiles winks at him. 

Derek just stares back, not sure whether he’s supposed to feel guilty or embarrassed or something else. He’s feeling a little warm. 

“I mean, if that’s what you’re into, we can make it work, Derek. _You know that_.” Stiles’s voice drops low. “You can lurk at the edge of the woods to watch me during training. Stalk me down grocery aisles. Throw me up against some walls, maybe. Growl a little … ” He trails fingers down his neck and bats his eyes at Derek. 

Derek blinks rapidly for a second then just huffs. He has no idea how to talk to Stiles when he’s like this. “You’ve been in here for hours. What’re you working on?” 

“Just coordinating the pack’s schedule for the semester. I’m making sure we can all be together as much as possible. We have a shared Google calendar now. It’s _color-coded_. And Danny hacked the systems to make sure we all got the classes we want.” His grin is ridiculous. More adorable than sexy, but it still steals Derek’s breath. “Whoa.” 

“What?” 

“Heart eyes!” 

“What.” 

“You are looking at me with heart eyes. That’s … Jeeeeeeeesus. Put that face away! I have shit to do, dude.” Derek growls at him. “Sorry. I mean: I have shit to do, _sweetie_. Your perfect face is too distracting.” 

Derek growls louder and tackles him to the mattress, scattering the papers everywhere. He shoves his hands under Stiles’s shirt and runs his nose down his cheek, his neck. His growl may have turned to more of a purr. But no one needs to know that. 

Stiles groans and pushes him away. “Not now, Derek. Seriously. … We can’t with the pack still here.” 

“ … What?”

“Is that all you can say today?”

“I just … I didn’t know you’re shy about that. Around the pack. You talk about sex all the time, Stiles.”

“No, it’s not the same … It’s not … I’m not _shy_. It’s … I don’t know? Just, uh, _private_. And I don’t want to _traumatize_ anyone. … Or give them something to make fun of me about. … It’s just weird, ok? Like it’s one thing to _joke_ about it. It’s another for them to be able to hear it. And _smell_ it.” 

“They can’t actually smell it.”

“What?! But I thought you like me all covered in it … You said it smelled good?”

“It does. To _me_. It smells like you and lust. It’s strong. It makes those smells stronger. But it’s not a _different_ smell. Just _more_.” 

“So they can’t tell later?” 

“No. You always smell like that. They’d know if you came in the shower. Because the smell would still be strong in the shower after you left.” 

“Shiiiiiiiiit. So if everyone moves in, that’ll be hard.” Stiles giggles like a twelve-year-old. “I mean, that’ll be difficult. _Awkward_.” 

“If everyone moves in, we’ll need a bigger house. Separate bathrooms.” 

“Cool. … And _really_ fucking good soundproofing. That’s a thing that can work, right?”

Derek nods. “For now, as long as people aren’t … ”

“Nose deep in my crotch?”

Derek scowls. “It should be fine.” 

“As long as we’re _quiet_ , you mean.” Stiles winks at him. 

“Are you ever quiet?” 

“I dunno. Want to test the theory? Everyone else is busy right now, right?” Derek just looks at him. “Ok, fine. You’re right. Come take a nap with me, then?” 

Derek nods and puts on some boxers while Stiles strips down. Stiles yells out: “It’s nap time, assholes. Do not disturb or you’ll be helping Erica with dish duty! … And don’t get any ideas, Erica, because if it’s your fault, you’re gonna be on laundry duty for the whole pack _all semester_.” He looks at Derek and whispers in his ear, “What are they saying?” 

“They’re calling you very creative names. And trying to figure out how to get each other in trouble.” 

“Can’t you alpha them and make them leave us alone?” 

“Maybe,” he whispers back. Louder he says, “Go play paintball. Winners pick dinner; losers pay. … MVP gets to pick the movie for tonight.” 

Stiles grabs hold of Derek’s shirt and groans into his neck. “Holy fuck, I’m so turned on by your brain right now.” 

“I thought we were going to nap.” 

“Well, yeah, but now you sent them away. So we’ll be all alone. With no one to hear us. We can be however loud we want. … And then afterward we can still nap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: Whoops, I forgot I had already posted this chapter, so I ended up editing it. There's no plot change. But it's just a slightly different (better, I hope) version of the same chapter.
> 
> This is one of the fics I reread the most: [Touchpaper](http://archiveofourown.org/works/473105/) by [entanglednow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow)
> 
> (I know I’ve recced this author before. But that’s because I just love everything they do.)


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The constant togetherness is great for pack bonding--even the bickering--but all the time with everyone means a lot less time with Stiles. Or with _just Stiles_ , anyway. It feels like years since they’ve had more than a half-hour alone together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, _finally_. Fuck, I’ve missed this story. Family shit is so exhausting. I’m so glad to be home again so I can be antisocial for like a month and get back to wriiiiiiiiiiiting.
> 
> And Happy Christmas, if that's a thing for you. Or, if it's not happy, please know that you matter to me and can talk to me anytime.
> 
> Also, this happened while I was away (and it's even more now):  
> 
> 
> Holy crap. Over 400 subscribers to this story now?! _Holy crap, y’all._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (That’s from [Strong Bad](http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbzone.html). You should definitely go play the game.)

The last bit of the summer flies by. The house is overrun. There’s constant bickering. Everything is _loud_. All the time. Derek’s grocery bill triples. He realizes pretty quickly that he’s not ready yet for a real pack house where everyone is under foot 24/7. It’s all just a bit much for him right now. 

Derek can smell that everyone’s annoyed and also nervous. It’s setting him on edge. Yelling at them to shut up hasn’t worked the last 200 times Stiles has tried, so he’s finally given up. Derek reminds him they’re just worried about being apart when the semester starts. They’ll settle down soon. Derek wraps Stiles up in a big hug. Then he goes out for more groceries. If he takes a very, very long way there, well, he fucking deserves it. The quiet is _amazing_. 

Derek figures the only way everyone will survive the last week is to train harder and longer. Stiles doesn’t disagree, just rolls his eyes and proposes adding double-feature movie nights too. Scott's mother and Stiles’s father come by when they can, but when they’re there they spend most of the time huddled in the corner laughing. Stiles pesters him to eavesdrop, but Derek refuses to risk getting on the Sheriff’s bad side. He expects Stiles to pout but instead he nuzzles Derek’s cheek intensely. 

The constant togetherness is great for pack bonding--even the bickering--but all the time with everyone means a lot less time with Stiles. Or with _just Stiles_ , anyway. It feels like years since they’ve had more than a half-hour alone together. They don’t even get to sit next to each other at meals or during movies because everyone in the pack wants equal time with their alpha. 

Worse, when they are finally alone, they’re both too exhausted to do much other than collapse on each other for a nap. 

Then the semester starts, and all of a sudden they finally have more time for each other. And now Derek doesn’t know what to do with it. It feels like starting over. It feels like they’ve never touched before. Never been tangled up together naked. 

It hasn’t even been that long, really. Not objectively. It just feels like it. He’s not sure how to jump back in. It’s like they’re just roommates who cuddle. Like they were before Stiles moved in. Like they’ve lost ground. 

And he’s not sure if Stiles is just giving him space or if this is just a natural thing that happens to couples. He misses it, the intimacy. But he doesn’t know how to make it happen again. It’s like he’s forgotten how. Well, maybe that’s not surprising. He’s not the one who made it happen the first time, really. 

He’s … nervous … and embarrassed … and a little afraid to disappoint Stiles. It’s been so long since they have. So the next time has to be really good. Right? 

So, yeah, Derek might be moping just a little. And he might be a little irritated at Stiles. Because Stiles is usually the one to fix this. To push when Derek … stalls. When things break down. Stiles always fixes it. _Why isn’t he fixing it?_ Oh shit. Is this a test? Is Stiles tired of always being the one?

If he’s being really honest, though, sometimes Derek isn’t even sure if he’s disappointed that they’re just roommates who cuddle lately. They still touch in passing a lot, which is really nice. And they get pack stuff done. And they’ve mostly split up chores in a way neither of them hate. It can be really kind of relaxing that nothing is being asked of him. They’re not doing anything that pushes Derek’s comfort. 

He thinks he might be ok with staying like that. Well, sometimes. Sometimes it makes him a little sad. It’s weird that they haven’t talked about it. Stiles usually wants to talk everything to death. He doesn’t know if Stiles is maybe frustrated about it. He’s a little afraid to ask.

Because what if they talk about it and Stiles _is_ frustrated? Then Derek has to _do_ something about it, right? It would be shitty to bring it up if he’s not actually willing to change. Fuck, he’s so bad at this relationship shit. 

Derek doesn’t know how to think about what he wants for himself without thinking about Stiles’s feelings. That’s a little scary. Are they too codependent? That’s bad, right? That’s not healthy. If something happens, he needs to be able to stand on his own. Function as an alpha. As a person. 

Derek doesn’t even realize he’s worked himself up into a ball of tension until Stiles leans over and smooths out the wrinkles on his forehead. Not saying anything, Stiles just meets Derek’s eyes and gives him a small smile before going back to his homework. Derek sneaks a sniff. Stiles smells content enough ... 

Sitting here isn’t helping. Derek needs to move. “I’m going for a run. I’ll take my phone. Call if you need me.” 

Stiles just hums and nods as he continues typing. 

Derek runs out to the middle of the preserve and just sits for a while. It’s easier to think without Stiles there. Without his scent and his heartbeat overwhelming Derek’s senses. Derek can be his own person here.

He digs his hands in the dirt and just breathes deeply. It’s a gorgeous night. He gets a little lost in time. He has no idea how long he’s been out here. It’s almost meditative. He needs to do this more often. He was alone for so long that he never makes time for himself anymore. He didn’t even know he still needed it. Stiles will laugh when he tells him.

He looks at his phone. He’s been gone over an hour. The sweat has cooled on his skin. As soon as he notices, he gets antsy for a shower. He sprints home.

Stiles hasn’t moved in all this time. Derek stands next to him and waits for Stiles to notice he’s back.

“You need something?” 

“A shower.” 

“ … Oooooookay. And?” Stiles hasn’t even looked up at him. Hasn’t stopped scrolling through whatever he’s reading.

Derek takes a deep breath and holds out his hand, just inside Stiles’s peripheral vision. Stiles tilts his head toward him but his eyes are still on the screen. Derek extends his hand an inch farther, finally catching his attention. Stiles turns and just stares at him for a moment, like he’s having trouble switching gears. 

Derek sighs. “Take a break?” 

“ … Uh? Ok? … Uh, yeah, ok.” He rolls his shoulders and groans. “Fuck, my neck is all … Ugh.” 

Derek drags him by the elbow into the bathroom. He strips and turns on the water. When he gets in, he leaves the curtain open behind him. Stiles is just staring again. 

Derek rolls his eyes. He says gently, “A little help here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic rec: [Testing the Waters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/978447) by [grimm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grimm/pseuds/grimm)
> 
> I’d love to rec lesser-known fics too. The ones I’m posting have tons of kudos. Because they’re awesome, so that makes sense. But it’s been a long time since I’ve clicked on the Sterek tag and just opened a bunch of random fics to try them out. For the past few months I’ve been writing instead of reading. Which is great too, yeah, but you know. ... And then for a while I didn’t have energy for either writing or reading, and that sucked. 
> 
> I did start reading [_The Raven Boys_ series](http://maggiestiefvater.com/the-raven-boys/), though! It's the first book I’ve read in pretty much forever. I actually just started the second book yesterday, and I'm liking the series so far. More than I liked her other books I've read. So yay for Tumblr's obsession finally pushing me to read this!
> 
> Aaaaaaanyway, since I don’t have a lesser-known Sterek fic to rec, I’m giving you this oddity instead. It’s not even a Teen Wolf fic, though: [We're Fucked Up, but We're Not the Same](http://archiveofourown.org/works/150825) by [airspaniel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel)
> 
> Right, so ... It’s inspired by the [_American Idiot_ musical](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nNZkebqY8o), based on the Green Day album. (Serious strobe light warning on that video, btw.) I'm obsessed with this show. The orchestrations are amazing. It has a much fuller sound than the original album. And I'm obsessed with the choreography by Steven Hoggett. 
> 
> [Steven Hoggett](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steven_Hoggett) is my favorite choreographer, actually. The work he did for [_Black Watch ___](https://player.vimeo.com/video/42827532?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0)is fucking ... I mean ... HOLY SHIT. _Black Watch_ is one of the most perfect pieces of theater I've ever seen. I have [the dvd](http://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-Watch-DVD-Brain-Ferguson/dp/B001FTGUAO), which is excellent (I _highly recommend it_ ), but there's nothing like being there, you know? Live theater is the fucking best.
> 
> Oh my god, where was I? Oh, yeah, the pairing in the American Idiot musical fic is Johnny (the show’s protagonist) and St. Jimmy (his drug dealer/alter ego). As you might imagine based on that concept and the fic’s title, it’s _fucked up_. So, you know, fair warning and all. 
> 
> (And I haven’t read it yet, but that person also wrote a [Sharktopus fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/141100). So, there’s thaaaaaaat.)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shower scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the rest of your Christmas present?

Stiles’s eyes snap to his. Derek gives him a smile, holding out a hand and trying not to look nervous. 

Stiles stumbles his way out of his clothes and throws himself into the shower with Derek, almost smashing his head into the opposite wall. Derek tries very hard not to laugh at him. Stiles smacks him lightly on the ass and grabs the soap. 

Stiles lathers him up slowly, teasing. They definitely haven’t touched like this in weeks. Derek sighs and leans into Stiles’s hands. Yes, he missed this. He _wants_ this. 

Stiles washes Derek’s neck, his back. With circular motions, Stiles jokes about being the Karate Kid, waxing on and waxing off. Derek groans and leans his head under the spray. Stiles tugs him back upright and washes Derek’s chest from behind, plastering himself against Derek’s back. He washes Derek’s arms and hands, threading their fingers together for a moment before sweeping back up and trying to tickle his armpits. Definitely unsexy. And the feeling isn’t exactly relaxing, but it relaxes Derek anyway. Makes everything seem less serious. More familiar. 

He feels Stiles smiling into his shoulder blade as he scrubs across Derek’s stomach. Stiles doesn’t move his hands lower until he sinks to his knees and starts washing Derek’s feet, calves, knees, and about halfway up his thighs before standing up and grabbing the shampoo. 

The scalp massage is _amazing_. He leans back into Stiles and drops his head back on Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles digs his fingers into the nape of Derek’s neck, making him moan. And that makes Stiles groan and grind up against him.

“I want to try something,” he whispers in Stiles’s ear. 

“Ungh … Anything, Derek.”

Derek turns and pulls them both under the spray until it’s hitting their faces. Stiles has his eyes closed and he smells confused, but he’s not moving away. Derek breathes slowly as the water runs down his face. It’s … ok. 

He slides his hands up Stiles’s neck to his jaw and kisses him on the mouth. Stiles gasps and blinks at him. Derek leans in to kiss him again, open-mouthed this time. It’s … nice. Stiles is smiling against his mouth. 

Derek says _yes_ and Stiles understands. Stiles nips at Derek’s bottom lip. It’s good. The open-mouth kisses continue and then Stiles licks between his lips and that’s … Derek’s not sure about that. 

Stiles pulls back. “No?” 

Derek tilts his head. “ … Maybe?”

Stiles nods and leans back in, hands roaming now. He kisses up Derek’s throat, making him hum. He bites at his neck, and yes. “Yessssss.” 

Stiles grunts and continues, rubbing his face in the crook of Derek’s neck, massaging his ass, biting his shoulder. He noses at Derek’s ear then kisses back down his throat. Then Derek feels something warm and rough drag up from his collarbone all the way to his ear. Stiles stops then, waiting. Derek’s face scrunches up. Stiles leans back to look at him but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask anything. He just looks and waits. 

“ … Maybe?”

“You wanna try?” Derek just blinks at him. “Derek. Do you want to taste me? Do you want your mouth on me? Do you want to _mark me_ with your mouth?” 

Derek doesn’t realize he’s growling until he hears himself. He drags Stiles back under the spray and kisses him lightly on the mouth, the cheek, below his jaw, down his neck. He moves back up to Stiles’s face. 

“Let me? Don’t … but just let me?” Stiles nods at him. Derek kisses his mouth again. Licks at the corner of his lips. Stiles lets him. Derek licks along his bottom lip and Stiles moans deep in his throat. It’s one of Derek’s favorite sounds. Derek pushes his tongue into Stiles’s mouth, tasting him. It’s intoxicating. 

Stiles’s tongue twitches against him, like he can’t quite help but respond to the pressure. Derek jerks back and lets the spray wash down his face. Stiles lets out a breath. Derek’s afraid to look at him. Doesn’t want to see the disappointment. He keeps his eyes closed and lets the water pelt his face. 

Stiles slides his hands up Derek’s chest, up his neck, across his face and up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. Derek sighs and leans in, inhaling at Stiles’s temple, running his nose down his jaw, licking down his neck. Stiles breathes in loudly and it turns into a gasp when Derek bites down. 

“Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuck. Oh my god.”

Derek would laugh, but he’s busy sucking marks into Stiles’s neck and shoulders. He doesn’t think Stiles even realizes he jerking against Derek’s hip. Derek takes a deep breath and slips around behind Stiles. He continues his line of hickeys as he rubs hands up and down Stiles’s chest. Down, down, until one hand is buried deep in Stiles’s curls. 

Stiles throws his head back and moans wordlessly in Derek’s ear. He arches up against Derek’s hand and Derek thinks: _fuck it_. He bites down and grabs Stiles’s cock, jerking him slowly while Stiles grinds back on him. It’s overwhelming. It’s so much. He’s drowning in the scent, the feel, the taste, the sounds. 

He speeds up and Stiles is moaning continuously now, head thrown back and turned into Derek’s neck, breath hot against his throat. He’s snapping his hips up into Derek’s fist and gasping in time with the movement. Derek can tell he’s getting close. So close. But Stiles freezes and bats Derek’s hand away. 

“ … What?” 

“Fuck, Derek. I’m like three seconds away from this getting very messy. Oh, holy fuck.” 

“Good,” Derek growls into his throat and tugs Stiles back into his chest. He starts back up and Stiles is right. Derek can smell it. He’s seconds away now. Derek turns Stiles’s head to him and smashes their mouths together as Stiles comes with a groan against Derek’s lips. 

Derek leans Stiles against the shower wall and washes him clean as he calms down. 

“What about you?” Stiles mumbles lazily. 

Derek runs a finger down Stiles’s cheek. “ … You could watch?”

 _That_ certainly wakes Stiles up.

 

***

 

It’s easier after that. They’re comfortable with each other’s bodies again. More likely to touch in ways that are beyond just friendly. That’s how it goes for a while. Several days in a row of sex or something like it and then something else comes up and everything screeches to a halt. 

It’s a pattern now. If they go more than a few days without, Derek gets nervous about starting again. Stiles never seems worried, though. Sometimes Stiles breaks the pattern; sometimes Derek does. 

He wonders if it’ll always be this awkward. Will it always be nerve-wracking to bridge the gap between them? Is this a thing everyone has to deal with? 

Stiles is squinting at him now, reading Derek’s face. But rather than smoothing out his worry lines, this time he pinches Derek’s nipple then collapses in a pile of laughter. 

Derek smiles and tackles Stiles to the bed. Yeah, maybe’s it’s always going to be awkward. But at least it’ll be fun, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a Jewish friend had us over for Christmas brunch. She showed us this amazing/ridiculous/wacked-out stop-animation Christmas special that I HIGHLY recommend checking out. There are Nazis and a woman’s sexual awakening, adoptive and chosen families, chosen names, and encouragement to be the change you want to see in the world. And a random, pointless penguin at the wrong pole. _Plus Frank Sinatra!_
> 
> Also, Santa’s kind of a creeper who tells people to smile, spies on them, bribes them to sit in his lap, and is also a bedroom intruder. But we all already knew that. Seriously, though, [Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town, by Rankin-Bass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Claus_Is_Comin%27_to_Town_\(film\)) is not to be missed! Check out [a preview clip](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jQy_ppY2bI%20).


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quiet gasp--just as Derek’s opening the fridge--is almost quiet enough to escape his hearing entirely. _Now_ he knows what Stiles is up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the porniest thing I’ve ever written. Oh my god.
> 
> This is still Mature and not Explicit, though, right?

Derek juggles the groceries and manages to set down all 8 bags before anything falls. The hamburger buns might be a bit worse for wear; the way they eat, the pack won’t care. And there’s just something stupidly satisfying about not having to make 2 trips from the car.

Something’s scratching at his awareness as he starts pulling everything out of the grocery bags. After he tucks the empty grocery bags back in the drawer, he can’t help a quick detour into the living room to satisfy his curiosity.

That’s it: none of the clutter in the living room had been cleared yet. _Someone_ hadn’t actually cleaned house while Derek was out shopping. There’s still time, of course, to get the place ready for a celebratory weekend before everyone gets sucked into midterms. And it’s not like he needs to impress a group of people who’ve seen him inside and out--literally. 

He can’t help but want it to be perfect, though. After all the hard work setting up the house and picnic tables and gardens, the progress with learning to fight as a team, and general pack bonding--even all the bickering was a new kind of closeness--he just thinks that if tonight is perfect … they’ll come back. For fall break and spring break and Thanksgiving and Christmas and summer. Because he doesn’t quite believe it yet. He still feels like they’ll find something better when they’re away. Some _one_ better.

Derek sighs. Now that he’s back at the house, he knows Stiles will rope him into helping finish the rest of the chores. _Asshole_.

The gasp--just as Derek’s opening the fridge--is almost quiet enough to escape his hearing entirely. _Now_ he knows what Stiles is up to. Well, maybe not _exactly_ what. He’s trying to decide whether to just put away the food and pretend he can’t hear or go for a walk and give him some privacy. 

The low moan that follows is irresistible, though. He shoves the cold items into the fridge and freezer haphazardly and leaves the rest scattered on the countertops.

He knocks hesitantly on the door. “I’m back.” No answer. He tries again, louder. “Stiles, I’m home. Can I come in?” 

“Mmpf. Yeah, yeah. Ungh.” 

Stiles is sprawled across a Captain America towel on the bed, next to an array of items from the “happy drawer.” His eyes are closed and his bottom lip is sucked in. His hand doesn’t slow down as Derek approaches the bed and runs a hand through his hair. Stiles leans into the touch.

“Sorry, I was just so wound up. Worried about today becoming a bloodsport … uhhhnf … or sobfest. I thought this would … mmmmm … help take the eeeedge off.” 

“You don’t seem relaxed yet.” Derek puts a knee down on the bed and leans over to draw a hand down Stiles’s tense abs. “Need some help?” He buries a hand down through the thatch of curly dark hairs. Stiles squirms. “Or maybe just different help. Turn over.” 

Stiles throws an arm across his face, muffling his words.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I want you to see.” 

“Ok,” Derek says, running the hand down Stiles’s leg as he turns to go. 

“You don’t have to go! I mean … um … ” 

“It’s ok.” He squeezes Stiles’s ankle. “We don’t have to share everything.” 

Stiles huffs. “That’s not … I just wasn’t expecting you back yet so I … ”

Derek runs his nails up Stiles’s foot, distracting him from whatever else he was going to stumble through saying. 

Derek leans close, running his nose up Stiles’s leg until he figures it out. Recognizes the scent and what’s missing from the collection of toys on the bed. “I bet it looks good. Show me?” 

Stiles’s breath hitches but he slowly turns over. 

“Up.” 

Stiles props himself up on hands and knees, groaning obscenely at how the purple plug shifts as he moves. Derek runs his hands up and down Stiles’s back, sweeping lower each time until he settles on massaging Stiles’s ass. 

“This ok?” 

“It’s … ungh … I can’t … I have to … ” 

Derek feels the shift as Stiles drops to one elbow and starts stroking himself in time to Derek’s movements. When he gets close, Derek puts a finger on the base of the plug and gently pushes it in deeper and releases, pushes and releases.

“Oh my gooooooood … unf,” Stiles grunts, and a burst of scent hits Derek’s nose. Derek taps the plug a couple times until Stiles bats at his hand. “No, that’s weird. Stop.” Derek presses gently one more time, rocking the base of the plug up and down a bit, then lets go slowly as Stiles collapses on the bed with one last, long groan.

“Hooooooly shit.”

Derek hums and rubs a hand idly down Stiles’s calf. “Stay there,” he whispers, stripping down and straddling Stiles just above the knees. “This ok?” 

“Mmmhmm. Eeeeeeeverything’s ok now.” 

Derek focuses on the overwhelming scent of Stiles in the room, and the beautiful skin below him, the swell of Stiles’s ass hiding the plug still nestled there. He leans back on his heels and grabs his cock, inching his fingers back and forth gently below the head, grateful again that the slip-slide of his foreskin means he can get by without lube.

His small, gentle movements get rougher when he looks up to see Stiles staring back at him over his shoulder, feels him rocking the bed just a bit below him. He slips a thumb down to Stiles’s ass to rest against the base of the plug again and lets Stiles push back and forth minutely against the pressure.

“Oh my goooooooood,” Stiles exhales in a whisper.

“Stiles, you look … and you sound so … Oh god. I’m close. Can I?” 

“What?” 

“Can I … on you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Take it out.” 

“Huh?”

“Take out the plug.” 

Stiles huffs. It’s awkward at that angle and perhaps not entirely comfortable for him, but he manages and Derek finally lets himself go, watching as he hits his mark. 

He reaches out, wanting to rub it into Stiles’s skin but stops before making contact. 

“What?” 

“I want it inside you,” he admits, looking at the plug and back.

Stiles gasps. “Oh. I can’t. … I’m pretty done with the plug for the day. Sorry?” 

Derek nods and slips off the bed to the bathroom. He’s disappointed and embarrassed for even asking. He washes himself off and then splashes cold water on his face to combat the red heat in his cheeks. He doesn’t look at the bed when he walks over to start getting dressed. 

“Derek.”

Derek makes an inquisitive noise and keeps getting dressed.

“Look at me. Please.” 

Derek purses his mouth but turns around. Stiles is still on his stomach, reaching under himself to circle his hole with one come-slick finger. When he sees that Derek is looking, he pushes inside with two fingers and holds them there, staring Derek down. 

Derek rests a knee on the bed and leans down, dragging his nose across Stiles’s cheek close to where his fingers are buried inside himself.

“Is this what you wanted, Derek?” 

Derek inhales and lets out a frustrated growl. Stiles pulls his fingers out, releasing a brighter burst of scent. Derek drags his lips across one cheek and bites Stiles on the hip before pulling back. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“I want to taste you next time,” Derek pouts.

“You can taste me now if you want.” 

“You smell like chemicals.” 

Stiles sighs and turns over, frowning at Derek.

“I didn’t think you’d be here for it to matter.” 

“I know. I interrupted. It’s fine. … And thanks for letting me.” He leans down and places a dry kiss on Stiles’s temple. “I should finish putting away the food.” 

Stiles hums, and Derek’s not sure he wants to know what he’s thinking, so he just turns and heads out to the kitchen.

He’s just finishing up when Stiles comes up and hugs him from behind, snagging the phone from Derek’s pocket. He nuzzles between Derek’s shoulder blades as he taps out something on the phone. 

“I’m going to vacuum while you make the potato salad. Take a look at that later and we’ll talk,” Stiles says, slipping the phone back into Derek’s pocket. 

Derek looks at the kitchen clock and tries not to panic. They’d been in the bedroom longer than he’d thought. They both rush around the house tidying up as much as they can. It’s not done, but it’s good enough when the pack and others start rolling in.

Dinner is loud and crowded, and they still need to get a dinner table before everyone comes back for Thanksgiving. But the picnic tables have held up well, and everyone looks well-fed and happy. 

Derek’s in the kitchen making a fourth pitcher of lemonade when Scott comes in to dump his phone in a bowl of rice. Apparently there was a mishap when he was trying to send Allison a selfie. He asks if he can use Derek’s phone for a minute to let her know what happened while his dries out. Derek tosses him the phone and goes back to squeezing lemons. 

Scott’s half out the door to the backyard telling Derek he wants to take another photo when he turns around to tell Derek that the glass sculptures are really pretty, then laughing when he says that one looks like a dick.*

Derek frowns, confused. Scott scrolls on the phone for a few more seconds then clears his throat and apologizes, wide-eyed. He gingerly sets the phone on the counter and slinks out the door. Derek grabs the phone and scrolls through the webpage in shock for a second before fleeing to the bedroom. _Thanks, Stiles_. 

Derek can’t stop himself from overhearing the wolves laughing and interrogating Scott, who refuses to talk until Stiles stomps over and demands to be let in on the joke. 

He can hear Scott’s strangled whisper of “glass dicks” which is nowhere near quiet enough. 

Stiles blushes, mumbling, “ _Wolfy noses_ don’t like silicone, apparently. … Just stay out of other people’s phones, Scott!” 

Erica agrees about silicone, loudly, and starts talking about her favorite online sex toy stores. The Sheriff and Melissa call it a night before they have to hear any more, and Stiles goes ahead and kicks everyone out, telling them to come back tomorrow for hugs and leftovers to take back to school. 

He hears Stiles puttering around the kitchen, putting things away. Maybe giving Derek some time to come out on his own. He doesn’t.

Eventually Stiles knocks on the door. “Hey. Are you still hiding, or can I come in?” 

Derek unlocks the door and opens it, the blush not quite faded yet. Stiles hugs him extra hard and whispers apologies into his neck. He pulls Derek out to the couch and leans against his chest. 

“Wanna talk about it or pretend it never happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you even look at them while you were in there?”

“No! I was busy making plans to go visit Cora for the next 10 years.”

“Is this an alpha thing? I’ll tell them tomorrow it’s for me, not you. It’s ok. They’ll hear I’m telling the truth.”

“Your dad and Melissa won’t.” 

“They have definitely blocked it from their memory and will never think of it again.” 

“Lie. I’m never seeing your dad again.” 

“That’ll be difficult if you go work for him.”

Derek laughs at that. “Oh. … I don’t have to worry about him pressuring me into becoming a deputy anymore.” 

“You underestimate my dad’s ability to compartmentalize. Really, it’ll be fine. He’s lived through much worse raising me. In fact, I bet he’ll invite you to lunch next week just to show you it’s fine.”

“No.” 

“Sorry, you have to.” 

“Not if I’m in South America.” 

Stiles squeezes his arms and nestles in tighter in his lap. “C’mon, we haven’t seen the Alexander Hamilton episode of _Drunk History_ yet.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Some of the glass plugs and other toys are really pretty. <http://www.thekinkfactory.com/products/smooth-glass-bulb-butt-plug?variant=1099059431>  
> <https://www.glassfantasy.com/product/glass-butt-plugs/galileo-butt-plug/>  
> <https://www.simplipleasure.com/collections/dildos-glass/products/icicles-no-27-glass-plug-in-pink-pipedr>  
> <https://www.simplipleasure.com/collections/dildos-glass/products/pipedream-icicles-no-09-glass-dildo>  
> <https://www.simplipleasure.com/collections/dildos-glass/products/cyberglass-ben-wa-balls-in-blue-blossom-to>  
> <https://www.simplipleasure.com/collections/dildos-glass/products/crystal-premium-glass-eggs-in-clear-nsn>
> 
> ** Certified genius [Lin-Manuel Miranda](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lin-Manuel_Miranda) is the narrator for [the Hamilton episode](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt6261944/?ref_=nm_flmg_slf_3%20) of _Drunk History_ , so it’s obviously the best one ever. 
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> Fic recs: I stayed up too late one night reading [Marks and Mics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3202127/chapters/6963668) by [DLanaDHZ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ). And [Noteworthy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1459405) by them is so adorable.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you need?” he asks Stiles.
> 
> “I don’t know. To grow up? To not be a selfish asshole? To … Fuck. Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, y’all. Jeff Davis’s reign of fuckery is official over. It feels freeing, doesn’t it? I mean, damn, that series finale wasted so much time on stupid shit no one cares about … Well, anyway, long live fic!

When Derek gets back from his morning run, Stiles is sitting on the couch, unmoving, with a framed photo in his hand. Minutes pass and Stiles doesn't move. It’s maybe the most still he’s ever been, including that time they were hiding from a troll. His stomach drops.

He slowly moves into Stiles’s peripheral vision, but it’s clear Stiles’s eyes are unfocused. He takes a deep breath before kneeling beside him. He’s afraid to touch, so he just starts talking in hushed tones.

“Stiles. Hey, I’m back. From my run. I was gonna shower first but I could make breakfast now. If you want. Are you hungry? Are you … are you ok?”

Stiles doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. He listens to Stiles’s heartbeat but it sounds like usual. He inhales deeply and hopes Stiles will forgive him for “cheating” and spying with his nose. The scent is a dense mix of misery and guilt and worry and shock. He almost regrets knowing. 

He places a gentle hand on Stiles’s knee and talks some more. “Stiles. Stiles, I … I don’t know what you need. You always tell me what you need. I want to help. Please let me help.” He lets a strangled laugh slip. “It’s my turn, I think. You’re always saving me.” 

His hands tighten in frustration, and the pressure on his knee jolts Stiles from his stupor. Stiles blinks rapidly and seems to reorient himself, letting out a loud breath. 

“Uhhhh. Hi?” 

“Hey. I’m back from my run. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.” 

“Yeah, uh, the phone woke me.” 

“Yeah? Everything ok?” 

Stiles’s laugh is bitter, and he hangs his head.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know. To grow up? To not be a selfish asshole? To … Fuck. _Fuck_.” 

“Maybe breakfast will help?” 

“Thanks but I don’t think I can stomach it right now.” 

“Do you … want a hug? I haven’t showered yet.”

Stiles sags forward onto his shoulder and he wraps him up in sweaty arms.

The words are muffled, but he gets the point, “Dude, you’re rank.” He lefts out a breath slowly. A complaining Stiles is something he knows how to deal with. 

“I can fix that. You be ok while I shower?” 

“No,” Stiles pouts. “Yes.” 

“C’mon. You can sit on the toilet and pout while I rinse off.” 

“You need more than a rinse.” 

“If you’re gonna criticize, maybe you should do it yourself.” He smirks and hopes Stiles doesn’t notice the worry in his eyes. 

“Just go. I’m fine here.” 

He takes the fastest shower of his life and puts on his softest pjs. When he gets to the living room, Stiles is rubbing at his ring finger with his thumb but otherwise unmoving again. He squeezes in against the arm of the couch and drapes Stiles in the ugly wolf blanket, hugging him tight. Stiles just burrows his head into his chest with a whine. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” he tells Stiles, even though it’s killing him not to know. 

Stiles sighs and flails an arm around under the blanket until he unearths his arm to hands over the phone. Stiles had been gripping it so tightly that he has to stretch his hand out a few times afterward. Derek sees there’s a long string of texts from Scott--mostly jumbled letters, which he can’t decipher at all. He scrolls up and up and … oh. 

He sets the phone down on the table and squeezes Stiles tighter. He has no idea what to say, so he says nothing. The minutes tick past and Derek just waits. Until Stiles’s stomach grumbles. 

“Still not ready to eat?” 

Stiles sighs, which isn’t exactly an answer. 

“Chocolate peanut butter bacon sandwich? Or something plain? Toast? Oatmeal? … Crackers?” 

Stiles sighs again but settles on oatmeal. 

“C’mon. Up. You can bring the blanket.” 

He slaps Stiles’s hand away from grabbing the phone on the way to the kitchen, pushing him toward the doorway. They sit crowded up next to each other at the table and eat their oatmeal—his thin and almost soupy and Stiles’s thick enough to carve shapes into, though he’s not bothering to play with his food right now. 

“It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming. I mean, it’s been obvious for so long. I told him to do it. I mean, like a year ago at least.” 

“But?” 

“But nothing, Derek. It’s a … Fuck, it’s a good thing. Why can’t I just be happy about it? You saw Scott’s fucking giddy about it. He called three times before giving up. I just couldn’t talk to him … Not until I can … _Fuck_.” 

He puts his spoon down to slip his hand beneath the blanket and rub Stiles’s back. He can feel how tightly his muscles are clenched and tries to smooth some of the tension out. 

“You’re allowed to be upset about it. You don’t have to be happy right away.” 

“I think I am, though, mostly? Like, of course I want this. I’ve wanted this for like a decade now. I’m just being stupid. I don’t know why.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s just a feeling. It’s not forever.”

Stiles snorts. “Maybe I should start going to your therapist too.” 

“You can’t,” he says, guiltily. 

“No, I know. Obviously.” 

“I can ask for a recommendation if you want.” 

“Nah. I’ll be fine, Derek. I just …”

“Need to throw a temper tantrum first?” 

Stiles snorts again and starts to unclench. “Thanks.” 

“Of course,” he says and goes back to finishing his oatmeal. 

Stiles picks up his spoon but doesn’t make it all the way to his mouth. He frowns down at the bowl. “Did I miss my chance for bacon, or is that still on the table?” 

“Just bacon, or …” 

“Just bacon.” 

“Ok.” Stiles shadows him around the kitchen. At least he’s shed the blanket, which would’ve been a hazard near the stove. 

“Whoa. You’re actually frying it? I thought I was doomed to oven bacon for the rest of my days.”

“I thought you could use extra comfort food.” 

“So, is this a one-time-only deal, or does it work for other milestones in their relationship? I mean, bacon for Dad and Melissa’s first date is awesome. But what about their first Thanksgiving as a couple? Do I get chocolate pudding or something? And when they move in together? Or when she proposes?” 

He turns to roll his eyes at Stiles but sees the smile fade. 

“Oh shit. He’s going to move in with her. Eventually. He’s going to … He’ll sell the house. The house, Derek!” 

He turns the burner off and sets the pan on a cold eye before wrapping Stiles in a hug again. 

Stiles rambles on. “But her house is much bigger. Too big, maybe? …” he sounds hopeful for a moment before trailing off. “Maybe they’ll sell both and make a new home together.” 

“So we’ll buy it.” 

Stiles blinks at him. “What?” 

“If your dad sells the house, we’ll buy it. If you want.” 

“You’d buy me a house?” 

He blushes. 

“You’d buy me a house?!” 

He shrugs and turns to go finish the bacon. But Stiles jumps on his back and starts kissing his head and his shoulder, loud smacking sounds, but never directly on his skin. His heart breaks a little knowing that even in the middle of this grief and even when while bubbling over with feeling, Stiles is still careful with him. God, he loves this man.

He sets Stiles down and turns toward him. He smooths his hands down Stiles’s cheeks and holds his gaze. “I love you.” 

That was maybe the wrong thing to say because suddenly Stiles is sobbing and wiping at his eyes furiously with the back of his hand. He shushes him and hugs him tight, tucking Stiles’s snotty face into his shoulder and ignoring the sensation as best he can. 

Just as quickly as it began, though, the tears are done and Stiles leans back with a laugh, wiping at his neck with his sleeve. “Sorry. Sorry.” 

Derek wipes at the last of the tears. 

“It’d make a shitty pack house, though,” Stiles sighs. 

“Even so,” he shrugs. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some fic recs for y’all. If there’s any new fic you’ve really loved this year, lay it on me in the comments. 
> 
> * [Camp Wolf](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11185344) by [mikkimouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse)
> 
> * [The Light in the Woods](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11062056) by [DiscontentedWinter](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/pseuds/DiscontentedWinter)
> 
> * [Yeah, Pass The Salt, Stiles](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10875462) by [CallieB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CallieB/pseuds/CallieB)
> 
> * [You and Your Heart (shouldn't feel so far apart)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10606683) by [dragon_temeraire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire)
> 
> * [Stopgap](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9048538) by [calrissian18](http://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18)


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